


Run To Him

by phoenix_michie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2019, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of Suicide Attempt, Oral Sex, Past Castiel/April Kelly, Past Relationship(s), Sheriff Dean Winchester, Stalking, Teacher Castiel (Supernatural), dcrb2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-06 17:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19066957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_michie/pseuds/phoenix_michie
Summary: Being a sheriff is all Dean Winchester has ever wanted. He loves his job, the town, and the people living in it.When a new guy moves into the neighborhood, Dean’s beloved townspeople are quick to talk and the rumors start to spread. As a new substitute teacher at the local High School, Castiel Novak attracts not only the attention of his neighbors, but also of the parents and the kids at the school. As complaints start to pour in at the station, Dean dutifully deals with them—and with Castiel, not knowing that this man is only trying to find his peace and quiet, trying to escape his past, but leading it right into Dean’s town.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first challenge-related story! I'm so happy and excited to be able to participate, and, quite honestly, I'm proud I managed to finish the story in time. I don't work well under pressure, that I know now lol.
> 
> I can't express the awe I feel for my artist [hitori-alouette](https://hitori-alouette.tumblr.com)! She's amazing. I love her special style, and I love her kindness. She's been my cheerleader in the past months. I'm so happy that I got paired up with her. I hope you'll enjoy her [art ](https://hitori-alouette.tumblr.com/post/185385341803/art-for-run-to-him-by-phoenixmichie-for-this)as much as I do.
> 
> There's another person that I'd like to thank. This fic wouldn't be posted without the help of [captainhaterade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhaterade) . I'm so grateful that she looked this over for me. Thank you so much!
> 
> Another thing: If you think you'll find accuracy here, then scratch that. My beta reader helped me pouring some accuracy into this story, and I tried my best, but I don't know anything about police work or the school system or nosy neighborhoods. I'm sorry for that. 
> 
> Important: At some points in the fic there'll be violence that I consider canon-typical (although this is an AU), mentions of animal abuse, mentions of stalking and mentions of suicide attempts. I'll mark it at the beginning of the relevant chapter.
> 
> Enjoy reading!!

 

                                                   

 

 _What a beautiful day_ , Dean thinks as he steps out into the mild warmth of late spring, carrying a large coffee and some disgustingly sweet donuts, which he’s just bought at his favorite bakery, _World’s Sweetest_. Favorite, because it’s located right on his way to the station, so no detour is necessary when he leaves his house in the morning. Favorite, because the girls who work there are nice and easy on the eyes, and well, because the baker—Gabriel—does an amazing job. As obnoxious and nosy as he is, he freakin’ knows how to make an apple pie, or cupcakes, or donuts, for that matter.

 

Smiling, Dean gazes up into the blue sky, completely free of clouds. It’s blindingly bright, so he pushes his aviator sunglasses back onto his nose before he crosses the street to his car, a ‘67 Impala, struggling to open the door without spilling his coffee or letting drop the bag with delicious, chocolate-glazed donuts. After he’s climbed behind the wheel, he carefully puts the bag down on the passenger seat; the coffee finds its place in the beverage holder.

He cranks the car and switches on the radio. The content smile on his lips widens as the Pina Colada song by Rupert Holmes fills the silence. Immediately, he reaches out to turn up the volume, but he stops in the middle of the motion when he hears a rumbling sound in the distance. It’s kinda unusual, because it’s actually only Dean’s car which makes such a sound—there’s no other muscle car around here. This he knows.

 

He stares at the road, barely noticing the passing cars. The rumbling sound gets closer, louder; the music barely able to cover it. Dean notices people turning their heads before he can spot the car. But then, there it is, the source of the most pleasant rumbling sound Dean’s ever heard (right after the Impala’s, of course): a Presidential Blue Mustang, probably a 1969 Mach 1. The sun reflects beautifully on the roof and the hood as it speeds along the road, and Dean’s impressed. Amazed. He stares at the car just like the people strolling along the sidewalk.

But Dean’s not impressed enough to ignore that the driver of that striking classic muscle car is actually speeding. A lot, in fact, considering this is a traffic-calmed sector.

The only other thing Dean’s able to notice is that the driver is male—but that’s about it. Everything happens too fast for him to catch the license plate, and going after that guy? No, Dean isn’t in the mood for that. He hasn’t even drunk his coffee yet (that always makes him kinda lazy), and the guy is probably just passing through town on a road trip or something. So Dean lets it slide, filing away that beautiful car, considering himself lucky to have seen such a nice classic.

 

After fastening his seat belt, he cranks up the radio, Rupert Holmes still singing about escaping, and while Dean resumes his way to the station, he sings along, expecting another normal day on duty.

 

**.oOo.**

 

“There you are,” Garth squawks as soon as Dean enters the station. “There’s been a car crash near the Pettigrew and Home Museum!”

Although Dean opens his mouth, someone else is faster. “I’ll take it!” Donna, the station’s sunshine. At Garth’s questioning look, Dean only shrugs, which is answer enough. Whatever Donna wants, she gets it. Dean can’t deny her a single thing.

“Sweet. Later, boys!” And with that, Donna’s left the building.

Dean resumes his way to his office, and of course, Garth is following him. He’s like a baby duck that’s imprinted on his mother, and in this case, Dean’s the mother and _that’s_ definitely not in his job description.

 

“Huh?” Dean stops in front of his desk, staring at the small terracotta vase full of spring flowers sitting on it. “What is this?”

“Flowers,” Garth helpfully provides, which makes Dean close his eyes. He takes a deep breath, then rounds the desk to sit down.

“Yeah, I can see that. Who put them there and why?!”

“Uhm…” Garth squints, eyes unfocused for a second, like they always are when he thinks too hard. “I think Donna put them there. They were delivered right after you left last night. They’re from the nice lady whose dog was trapped in that hole in the forest.” Garth gestures at a small card lying next to the vase. “She also sent you that card.”

“Oh…” Dean smiles a little, rubbing the back of his neck. Yeah, sometimes this happens. Some citizens feel inclined to send their thanks in the form of gifts.

Two days ago, Dean and two deputies were called into the forest near Leaders Park because a dog had fallen into a well-covered, deep hole in the ground. They had to call the firefighters, in the end. The dog, however, had just minor injuries. Everything turned out okay.

 

When Dean looks up, Garth is still standing in the middle of his office. “Something else the matter?” Dean murmurs, trying to sound normal instead of annoyed. Garth unfortunately just has this effect on him. The guy is too cheerful for his own good, and he has an odd sense of humor. One that rubs Dean the wrong way.

“The patrols for the week still have to be announced, for one thing.”

“Shit…yeah, I’ll do that right away,” Dean says as he switches on his computer.

“Secondly, there was a fight at Lincoln High.”

Dean’s eyes flick up to Garth. “ _What?!”_ When Garth just nods, Dean glares at him. “Care to elaborate? When did it happen?”

“Yesterday evening…”

“What the hell?” Dean stands. “Why are you telling me this just _now_?!” He thinks of Claire, the neighbors’ daughter who also happens to babysit his brother’s son, Jack. She’s something else, and he’s always afraid that she’s going to get into trouble.

“You were already off duty, sir,” Garth calmly reminds him. “The two deputies on the night shift took statements from everyone involved, but there’s still stuff that needs to be taken care of. You should assign someone.”

Garth fumbles with the folder, so Dean just takes it away from him. “Yeah, that’d be me,” he grumbles as he opens the folder to quickly study the report. Seems like some newly-testosterone-hit boys got into an argument. Well, that’s actually boring, but he’d better go investigate. Just to make sure that everything will be alright—and to make sure that Claire really wasn’t involved.

“There something else?” he mutters and stares at Garth, who nods.

“The theft case. Some new evidence has come up, according to Jo and Benny.”

“Cool. Let them handle it.”

“Sure. I’ll go man the reception, then.”

 

Dean sits down and sighs. First, he’ll assign the deputies for the patrols, and then he’ll head out to the high school. It’s probably nothing, and he shouldn’t bother because there’s enough administrative work that needs to be done—like a _lot_ of stupid paperwork—so there’s really no time for this. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to do paperwork right now, because he likes to be out there looking for trouble—or, more accurately—preventing it.

He quickly busies himself with the patrol plan, drinking his coffee while he’s at it. Although patrols can easily be done by the deputies, Dean thinks about adding himself to the schedule. Driving around, talking to people—that’s a perfect distraction from his own sad life, where nothing happens, nothing changes. It’s a dull routine, and only his job offers any variety.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Dean stuffs a second donut into his mouth. The box with the rest of them go on the counter of the front desk, where Garth is talking to Bobby, the best mechanic in town, who takes care of the police car fleet.

“Hey, son,” Bobby doesn’t wait for an offer before he reaches out for a donut. Nobody calls him out for it, because Bobby has done them a solid often enough. “Did you see that classic Mustang today that drove through town? Bet you came in your pants right then…”

“Ugh, Bobby…” Dean palms his face, trying to stop the blush spreading on his face, but it’s not working. “Better get to work.” He glares at Garth, who’s giggling like a schoolgirl. “And you, too. You’re not paid to just stand around being useless.”

The effect is instantaneous:  Garth goes pale, and opens his mouth, but is smart enough to close it and just nod instead.

Bobby grins and bites into his donut, also saying nothing, so Dean leaves the bustling station, the folder including the documents about the teenagers’ fight in his right hand.

 

**.oOo.**

 

The next day, Dean finally finds some time to patrol on his own. He leaves the station, happy and content because Donna was kind enough to buy _a lot_ of different kinds of donuts for the whole office. Dean has no doubt whatsoever that they’ll last until evening.

He’s chewing the last bite and opening the door of his cruiser when Ms. Carols, an elderly woman that lives about three blocks around the corner, passes by with her little dog. It costs a lot of effort to ignore the animal, because Dean isn’t a fan of dogs. “Sheriff Winchester,” she chirps, breathing heavily because she seems to be in a hurry, but nonetheless stopping by to talk to him.

He gives her a dazzling smile. “Ms. Carols, long time no see. I hope you’re doing fine.”

She makes a vague gesture with her hand. “Well, you know, getting older is no fun. But you’re miles away from that, so I won’t bother you with it.” Before he can say something to that, she takes a step closer, her eyes growing wide, the look on her face getting conspiratorial. “Since we’re meeting, I have a question. Don’t you do background check-ups or something before a complete stranger can move in to the neighborhood?”

He can’t help himself, his eyebrows rise in surprise. “Uh…no?” That’d be extreme, wouldn’t it? And it’d break laws. Plural.

Ms. Carols huffs, and then she takes a step back. “Well, you should watch out for that new guy who showed up a few days ago. Lives near O’Reilly Auto Parts. I’ve got a friend living around there; she says he drives a very loud car…”

Dean narrows his eyes. “I drive a loud car, too, Ms. Carols.”

Her eyes soften. “Yes, but you are the sheriff,” she says as if this is the answer and the permit for everything.

He sighs. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

She beams up at him and waves a goodbye, before she’s back to hurrying along the street.

Dean shakes his head as he climbs into his car. Jeez, sometimes old people really need a new hobby. Controlling newcomers? Really? The police station wouldn’t have time to do anything else, then. Weird suggestion.

 

Dean starts the engine and exits the parking lot, humming along to a rock song that’s playing on the radio. Once again, it’s a nice day, warm and sunny. The streets are bustling with people, and Dean maneuvers the car carefully, watching out for anything out of the ordinary.

A lot of people recognize him, and while he’d like to talk to all of them, he just doesn’t have the time for it. He’d like to cover the whole county, but it’s just unrealistic and he wouldn’t make it if he had to stop the car every other block.

 

Just when he enters the west end of the town, he hears his phone ringing—his private phone. Hastily, he pulls over as soon as he can, before he grabs the phone without looking on the display.

“Yeah?” He sounds breathless and hears his brother laughing at the other end.

“What did I catch you in the middle of?”

“Driving, you jerk.”

“Oh, Dean, you know you don’t need to drop everything just to get my call. I can try you again later.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, sure. You’re some hotshot lawyer, so you don’t have much time. I know that.”

Sam sighs. “I’m sorry, Dean. I know we haven’t seen each other for a couple of weeks now. I hope I can make it this weekend.”

Dean nibbles on his lower lip while he shifts the phone into his other hand. He misses his stupid brother, yeah; he’s his only close family that’s left. But he’s married, he’s got a son, and he’s a lawyer, so there’s not much time for the two of them, even though Sam also lives in Sioux Falls.

“It’s okay, Sam.”

“No, it’s not,” his little brother replies immediately, sounding genuine. “If I can wrap up your theft case…”

“It’s not _my_ case…”

“…then I’ll be sure that Eileen cooks us a very nice meal and we’ll talk, okay? You can come over.”

“Uh-huh…” Dean doesn’t say more, because Sam has made this promise several times before, but then something’s gone wrong. Dean and Eileen ended up sitting at the kitchen table alone, because Sam had to take care of something urgent that came up last minute.

Sam obviously notices the direction of Dean’s thoughts. “Dean,” he begins with a guilty voice, but he’s interrupted.

“I get it, Sam. We’ll see if it works. In the meantime, just kick some ass.”

For long seconds, Sam is silent, probably thinking about apologizing or something, but in the end, he just huffs a laugh. “I’ll do that. See you.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Short and to the point, like always when they’re calling each other. They’re both busy with their jobs, but it’s always nice when Sam calls him every other day. Sam living in the same town as Dean is actually the most amazing thing that happened to Dean. When Sam was attending law school hundreds of miles away, that had been hard. They’d seen each other only twice each year.

Staring at the road, with the engine still shut off, Dean thinks about his family. His father is dead and his mother still lives in Lawrence, Sam and Dean’s hometown. Dean doesn’t consider her close family anymore. His brother feels a bit differently about her, but he’s always been a bit softer, more understanding.

 

Dean groans and shakes his head, pushing away the thoughts about his family. It doesn’t help, thinking about that crap. Sam’s around and that’s what matters. And they manage to see each other every couple of weeks. Besides, even when Sam’s busy, Dean can always visit Sam’s wife, Eileen, and their son Jack, who’s eight years old. The kid’s freakin’ adorable.

 

Resuming his patrol, Dean begins to drive through the west end of town. So far, he hasn’t spotted anything worth leaving the car. It’s a quiet and slow day, the clock ticking to five p.m. Soon enough, a lot of people will go to the lake and the rivers, since it’s such a nice day.

 

Dean’s train of thought is interrupted as he passes the auto parts shop that Ms. Carols had mentioned before. Between all the white and cream little houses that line this street, there’s suddenly a very yellow one that absolutely does not fit into the neighborhood.

Well, it’s not his taste, it’s a bit too colorful and striking, but it’s not Dean’s house. He’s about to shrug it off when he notices a figure standing at the side of the house. Dean slows the car down and squints at the figure. It’s a man with dark hair, wearing a blue short sleeved hoodie and…whoa, is he holding a can? And just like that, yeah, the guy sprays a long dark line onto the wall of the house. What the fuck?!

Immediately, Dean parks the car on the other side of the street, before checking his belt for his handcuffs, radio, and gun—everything’s where it belongs. As fast as he can without stumbling, Dean climbs out of the car and crosses the street. “Hey! Sir?”

He comes to a halt at the low wooden fence of the property and stares at the man, already preparing to go after him because chances are high that the dude will try to run away.

But the guy just sprays another line on the yellow surface, not bothered by Dean. Just then Dean notices that he has earbuds stuffed into his ears. Ugh, listening to music, oblivious to his surroundings. Annoyed, Dean raises his voice, “SIR! EXCUSE ME?”

And of course, there’s already some nosy neighbor looking out of his window, and some people on the street turn their heads.

 

This time, however, the stranger hears him and lowers the can in his hand, before he turns around, tugging at the cord of his earbuds.

Dean gets a better look at the man as he slowly walks over. And Dean just stares, not able to stop his eyes from widening, not able to stop them from raking over the guy’s body.

There’s silky, disheveled hair shining like dark chocolate where it’s hit by the sun, soft crinkles at the corners of freakin’ ocean-blue eyes that capture Dean immediately. They sparkle, so full of life and emotion that it takes Dean all his strength to tear his gaze away. But it’s not getting better—well, it actually does get even better, to his heart’s dismay. There’s a nice three-day stubble covering the man’s sharp jaw, the lips rosy and chapped, and that shouldn’t be hot but it kinda is, and Dean’s never seen such tempting lips before.

He takes in the rest of the man; he’s wearing a navy blue drawstring hoodie which is short-sleeved and that, of course, fits tightly around his upper body and underlines the nice bulge of his arms as well as the tattoo that spreads down to his wrist. When Dean’s eyes drop further, he barely notices the black sweatpants that hang _low_ on the guy’s hips, because, huh, he’s barefoot. His toes are curling into the soft grass of the lawn. Well, okay.

Dean lifts his gaze, skimming past the dude’s long, nice fingers that are curled around the spray can. Those hands are probably able to hug someone tight to his body…

And okay, there he goes. _Fuck, stop it!_

Finally reaching those sinfully gorgeous blue eyes, he catches the man lifting an eyebrow, chin slightly tucked. There’s a small, tight-lipped smile playing at the corners of his very kissable mouth. “See something you like, officer?”

And that’s when Dean’s dick joins the party, _holy shit._ The guy’s voice is a fucking sin, gravelly, rumbling, a gay wet dream come true. It’s comforting, but also hot at the same time, so hot that it goes straight down to his dick, sending tingles through his balls. Dean chokes on his own spit when he opens his mouth; he has to clear his throat before he tries again to get out some words.

“It’s _sheriff,_ ” he corrects the man, who just smirks.

“Okay. I take it you _do_ like what you see.” His gaze briefly drops to Dean’s crotch and that’s when Dean starts to really regret stopping here. _Fuck!_

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Dean mumbles, clearly lying but too embarrassed to deal with it now. Luckily, the guy lets it slide.

“What can I do for you, _sheriff?”_ he says in a teasing tone and Dean knows it’ll do things to him if they’ll ever meet again.

“Uh, well… You’re spray-painting this house,” he states dumbly, and the man raises an eyebrow.

“Correct.”

“That’s illegal.”

Squinting, the man tilts his head in confusion. “No, it’s not. That’s my house, so I’ll do with it what I want.” He sighs and takes a step back as his frown deepens, determination crossing his handsome face. “It’ll probably surprise you, but I’m spray-painting this house because it’s _mine._ I bought it, and I do with it what I want. I repaint it, I spray-paint it, I build a second garage, whatever. If I want to rebuild it with my own hands after my own wishes, then I’ll do _just that._ If I decide I want to install a pool here, I’ll do that. If I plant 20-foot-high hedges to protect me from all these nosy neighbors, it’ll happen.” He takes a look around. “It _will_ happen.”

Dean follows his gaze, and yeah, people are still staring in their direction. There’s a dog barking not too far away from them.

He sighs and lifts his hand in a placating gesture. “It’s okay, man. So you’re the owner?” The man just nods, staring at him, blue eyes piercing. He’s pissed. “I didn’t know. I really thought you were some troubled kid tagging things just for fun.” He nods at the house. “So, what’s it supposed to be?”

“A honeybee.”

“A, uh…honeybee?” Dean repeats, surprised, then he stares dumbly at the shape on the yellow wall. “Uh-huh…” There are just some dark-brown lines so far. “Reminds me of a peanut, kinda, to be honest.”

Now, the guy seems to be insulted and stares Dean down with his intense gaze.

Dean clears his throat. “Anyway, who are you? I’ve never seen you around.”

The man points at the gate. “I’m Castiel Novak, like the mailbox says. I moved in three days ago.”

At least Dean has the decency to _not_ ask what kind of name that is. “Castiel?” he repeats, hoping he’s pronouncing it the right way. “Novak?”

Squinting, like he suspects Dean of mocking him, he nods. Suddenly, the barking dog Dean heard in the distance gets closer. And closer.

He swallows. Oh, shit.

There’s a big dog with creamy, fluffy fur, running with its tongue out, coming from the backyard and headed in their direction. It’s wagging its tail while it comes closer, and Dean automatically takes a step back. “Whoa…”

Just in time, Novak calls out to the dog, making it stop right at the fence.

Wide-eyed, Dean stares at the animal. “Would it jump over the fence?”

“No,” Novak immediately answers, sounding pissed at the assumption. “ _She_ is a good dog. And she’s family-friendly, so…” He stops and tilts his head, looking at Dean. “You’re afraid of dogs,” he states, suddenly sounding soft, and _again,_ his voice freakin’ _does things to Dean._

Taking a deep breath, he nods. “Yeah. Bad experience as a teenager is all. I’ll, uh…leave you to your graffiti then.” He touches his hat.

“Yes, thank you. And if you get calls from my neighbors because of the house, please ignore them.”

Dean smirks. “Unless you’re starting a fire, I’ll ignore it,” he promises and for a second, he thinks there’s a slight upward quirk to Novak’s very enticing lips.

A bit stiffly, Novak just nods at him, then he looks down at the dog and kneels down to pet her. When Dean turns around, he thinks he can hear him saying something like _“Too good, B,”_ or whatever, and Dean wonders what kind of name she actually has. But he’s really not cool with dogs, so he carefully crosses the street to his car.

The staring people thankfully have already disappeared. Dean doesn’t like them watching, he doesn’t like to feed their curiosity. As much as he loves the citizens of Sioux Falls, sometimes they annoy the shit out of him.

 

When he opens the door of his cruiser, he glances back at the yellow house. The color reminds him of sunflowers—of warm and sunny days—and suddenly he thinks of his mother. How kind she had been, right up until his father had died. The color reminds him of that Mary Winchester—caring, full of love, full of life.

Dean swallows and stares at Castiel Novak, who has a freakin’ can of brown spray-paint in his hand, spraying more lines onto the house. When he bends to switch the can, Dean gets a glimpse of a _damn hot_ piece of ass and he fucking can’t handle that sight without getting a boner, so he quickly tears his eyes away from the man.

Dean flops down behind the wheel. Holy shit, what was that? What’s up with him that he’s suddenly so overwhelmed by a stranger? That’s _not_ normal. It’s probably related to the huge lack of sex in Dean’s life. He’s got no love life and more sadly, not even a sex life. Dean has to think hard to remember when he last got laid. Maybe nine months ago? In the summer? No, it probably had been in spring, so it’s probably eleven or twelve months ago.

What a shame. Dean sighs deeply and grimaces. Being a small-town sheriff has lots of disadvantages, one of them being not able to have random hookups in town. Dean’s a respectable man with an even more respectable job, and it needs to stay this way. He can’t just whore around town, really, because most people know him and it’d only end up in chaos and embarrassment, because rumors spread quickly here.

Since Dean started working in the sheriff’s department of Sioux Falls, he quit doing random hookups, long bar nights and all that. He only does relationships, but so far, they’ve never lasted long. There have been two women in his life since he had moved here, but both times it had been short-lived.

Back in Lawrence though, whoa, nothing had stopped him. Women, men, it didn’t matter.

“All the things I do just to keep my job and my reputation.” He sighs again. Maybe he loves his job a bit too much? But all the responsibility, he wants to take this seriously. He wants to show John, who’s sitting up there, probably watching him, that he’s worth it. That he honors the job of an officer of the law.

 

Dean winds down the dirty window to get some fresh air although he knows it’s not gonna help in the heat. His AC is still broken, because he never remembers to tell Bobby about it. It’s getting warmer day by day, with the summer approaching, so he really should get it done soon. If not, he’ll sweat through all his layers, _soon_.

 

Again, Dean’s eyes land on the handsome man with the freshly painted yellow house, and he sees Novak stretching up to spray something that resembles antennae.

“Accurate,” Dean mumbles and starts his car. Time to get away from this house. He’s embarrassed himself enough in front of the new guy.

His eyebrows furrow. Wait. New guy… New guy. He moved in three days ago.

And there have been people complaining about a new guy. Living near the auto shop.

Oh. That’s probably the man half the town is talking about, the man with _“the very loud car”_ , although Dean doesn’t see it. It’s probably parked safely in the little garage right next to the house.

 

If Dean’s honest, he can see why some people are wary. It’s probably a freakin’ insult to the whole neighborhood of nicely painted _white_ houses, that there’s suddenly a _yellow_ one. With a sprayed honeybee on the side, to boot. Whoa.

Dean grins. It’s not forbidden. Like Novak said, it’s his own house. And it’s not like this neighborhood has a covenant or HOA that prohibits certain… aesthetic choices. Actually, it looks nice. Yellow is something new, it’s cool. Dean can’t wait to see the finished honeybee. The guy seems like he knows his shit.

 

Grinning, Dean maneuvers the car off the sidewalk and he cranks up the volume of the radio, an 80s song playing softly. He’s got a good feeling about this man, although he fucking flustered Dean.

“Next time’s gonna be better.”

 

Or not.


	2. Chapter 2

Groaning, Dean hangs up with a loud thud. He won’t be surprised if the telephone breaks one of these days. Immediately, Garth pokes his head into the office. He hasn’t shaved in three days, it seems, and it doesn’t look good on him. But Dean doesn’t say anything, because he’s not the fucking fashion police.  
“What’s the matter, Sheriff?”  
Dean rolls his eyes, doing his best not to snap at the man. Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly. Then he looks up at Garth. “Add two more calls to the Novak list.”  
“The new guy?”  
“Yes,” Dean hisses, irritated that Garth still needs to ask after the many calls they’ve already gotten. “And then tell me how many calls we got in total, and for which reasons.”  
Garth just nods, determination on his face, and disappears.

 

Dean lets his head hang. He needs to get this under control. Every day, there are new calls from a concerned or offended citizen, and Dean can’t actually do anything. It’s stupid, if you ask him. It’s nobody’s business what the guy does inside and around his house (apparently he’s got no urge to install curtains), but obviously, his neighbors do care. Thanks to them, Dean knows that Novak apparently likes to be almost naked, also in his garden (thank god he at least has the sense to wear underwear), he’s spraying graffiti on the other side of the house these days, and he’s not mowing his lawn. According to Mr. Jefferson, Novak also doesn’t tend the small hedge on the sidewalk—and this really is just the beginning of the stupid complaints.

 

Sighing, Dean straightens and looks into his unfortunately-very-empty coffee mug, then he lifts his gaze towards the small window to his right. He already instructed his deputies to note down all complaints, to inform him, and, well, to maintain that list. If Novak does something completely out of line, something that can get him into trouble, then Dean will talk to him. Until then, all they can do is calm down the citizens and wait until the dust settles. There isn’t a comparable case he can think of. He’s worked at the station for about eight years now, and people have mostly been okay with their neighbors. They’re mostly friendly and welcoming, so he’s a bit disappointed, to be honest, with his people. On the other side, though, new residents never painted their house in such strong colors, they never used graffiti, they never skirted the line of public indecency. Novak seems to be eccentric, and he puts all the freedom that he’s allowed to good use.

 

With limbs stiff from sitting on his butt all morning, Dean stands, groaning softly as he stretches his body. Something pops, and it feels quite good. He grabs his mug to get some coffee and heads towards the breakroom.  
Today, the station is rather quiet. Most of the deputies on shift are patrolling, and while they’re checking in regularly, nothing is happening. So Dean has no choice but to stay in the station and do his paperwork, especially since Donna, Jo and Benny are out there, too. Dean tries to keep talking with Garth to a minimum, because as soon as you ask him one question, he goes on and on, babbling nonsense right into your ear. More than once, Dean basically got up and ran off. At least Garth’s feeling can’t be hurt by Dean’s avoidance. He’d never been mad at Dean, at least as far as Dean can remember.  
Standing in the breakroom, Dean quickly makes some fresh coffee. While he waits for it to brew, he turns, hip leaning against the counter, so that he can see out of the one-way mirror that looks right into the office space. As always, Garth mans the front desk, but luckily, no one’s there to complain about anything. That’s why Garth is apparently busy with his fingernails, manicuring them or some shit.  
Dean sighs and lets his gaze wander. There are several desks in the main bullpen, but only two are currently occupied. The other deputies are all out. There’s Charlie, a wonderful woman who will climb the career ladder without much effort. She probably hacks into her own personnel files just to see what they think of her. She probably hacks into all the other data as well, because, let’s face it, she’s a genius. A nosy, teeny-bit-criminal genius, probably, but Dean loves her anyway. And so do the others.

  
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but then he looks to the other person in the station, Lucas Milton. Dean doesn’t particularly like him. He’s good at his job, yes, otherwise he wouldn’t be working for Dean. But Dean will probably never be friends with him. Lucas loves to show off, he loves to show that he’s powerful and in charge, because hey, he’s working for the sheriff, but that’s it: He probably wouldn’t save a baby from a burning house because it’s common sense, he wouldn’t do it for the parents; he’d do it just to be the hero in the story.  
Lucas is also one of the Milton brothers: Balthazar, the principal of Lincoln High, and Gabriel, the baker, are both people Dean’s very familiar with. The fourth Milton brother, a lawyer, doesn’t live in Sioux Falls. There might be a fifth brother, as well, but that is only a rumor. None of the Miltons have ever mentioned anyone else to Dean, and he never even heard a name from the rumor mill.

 

Grimacing, Dean turns around to pour some of the fresh coffee into his mug. Ah, that smell. “Awesome,” he mutters and heads back into his office. He’s just made it past the door of the breakroom when Garth fumbles with a document right in front of him.  
“Here, uh... The list. The Novak list. I printed it.” Garth is wide-eyed. “Sixty calls in four days. Isn’t that, like...a lot?”  
Dean sighs as he takes the list. “Did you also list the names of the callers?”  
Garth nods. “If the names were given to us, yes. Most people did.”  
“Good. I’m sure that some of them called more than once.” He thinks of Ms. Carols, who he’d run into a few days ago. Yeah, she’d be someone who’d complain every freakin’ day. “Thanks,” he mumbles as he resumes walking back to his office. Carefully, he plants the cup of coffee besides the keyboard, before he sits down in his comfortable chair.  
Not really interested, but following his sense of duty, Dean skims through the “Novak list of shame,” or whatever Garth and Donna call it. Some complaints are about his house—the color, the graffiti—some are about his bad behavior, about his dog (although nobody says that the dog actually attacked anyone, so it’s fine). Things about the yard. Ugh. About the loud car.  
“Really? Come on, people...” he mutters under his breath, eyebrows furrowed. “He’s barefoot. Well. Why does anyone care? He’s a teacher at Lincoln High, uh-huh... Don’t want some druggie teaching my kids...” Dean’s eyes widen. “Wait, what?”  
He reads the complete list again, and several people complain about Novak being a teacher. They’re wary of him; they’re worried about their kids. Dean kind of understands that—all parents want to protect their children—but often enough, they overdo it. That, in itself, wouldn’t really get his attention (although the number of parents complaining is relatively high), but two neighbors state that Novak does something with drugs. Consuming, dealing, that’s not specified. And now there’s this statement from a parent about Novak teaching and taking drugs. He probably got that from one of the neighbors, Dean supposes.

 

“Shit. Garth?!” Dean stands and grabs the list, accidentally spilling the coffee across his desk. “God dammit, fuck!” he swears as he takes a step back, clutching the paper against his chest in order to save it from stains.  
“Sir?” Garth pokes his head in and his eyes go wide as he sees the mess. “Oh...” He turns around again, but Dean’s problem right now isn’t the damn coffee on his desk.  
“Wait! That Novak guy. He a teacher?”  
Garth’s already big eyes widen comically. “Uh… maybe?” His voice is quiet.  
Dean rolls his eyes. “Then do some research! Now!” It’s important to know the facts, since Dean can’t just drive up there and confront the man at home with nothing but mere speculation.  
While Garth looks into Novak’s background, Dean busies himself with the parent who complained that he wouldn’t want someone who’s into drugs teaching his children.

 

**.oOo.**

 

It’s early afternoon when Dean arrives at Lincoln High. The next best thing he could think of was talking to the principal first, instead of going after that Novak guy to pressure him into telling the truth. He doesn’t know anything about him, and he wants to change that by asking Novak’s employer about him first.  
The hallways are mostly quiet. The period started a while ago and everyone’s back in their respective classrooms, so there aren’t many people who notice Dean. It’s always a bit annoying to stroll along the hallways of the High School, because everyone immediately thinks that some kid had been in a serious fight or was caught taking drugs or whatever it is kids do these days. Dean always feels their eyes on him then, and he can hear the students whisper, exchanging wild speculations. But it’s different today. It’s a calm and lazy day, and he’s okay with that.

 

When he enters the office of the secretary, he takes off his hat and smiles at her. “Hey, Daisy,” he greets her with his most charming smile on his face.  
Daisy’s eyes light up when she sees him. “Dean, good afternoon!”  
Right after he joined the Sheriff’s Department, there had been a lot of visits at this school, and so he’d quickly grown friends with Daisy, who celebrated her fiftieth birthday two weeks ago.  
“Which kid is in trouble today?” she asks, smiling. Most of the time, it’s always the same. Not today, though.  
His smile falters a little as he runs a hand through his hair. “So far, no one that I know of,” he says. “But there’s an issue I can’t ignore. Is the principal in there?”  
Daisy’s expression sobers and she nods. “Yes, you can go in. Right after your call, I informed him about your impending visit.”  
“Thanks.” He shoots her a grateful smile, before he knocks at the door of the principal’s office and enters right after, not waiting for the principal to answer.

 

Balthazar Milton already looks at him expectantly. He’s actually British, or he feels like he is, since he lived in Great Britain for most of his childhood. Anyways, he talks like a douche and Dean doesn’t particularly like him, but since they have to work together more often than either man is comfortable with, they try to suck it up. It’s comparable to the situation with Milton’s brother Lucas.  
“Mr. Winchester, Sheriff, it’s nice to see you,” Milton says (without meaning it, of course) while getting up from his creaking chair. He extends a hand above the solid wood desk, which is covered in paperwork.  
“Hello,” Dean replies gruffly while shaking Milton’s hand, and maybe he’s gripping it a bit too tight, but he can’t help it. Shaking Milton’s hand always feels like touching a dead fish; it’s disgusting.  
“What can I do for you? Which kid is in trouble this time?” He gestures for Dean to sit down and they both take a seat.  
“Castiel Novak, that ring a bell?”  
Milton furrows his brows; his expression is neither confused nor concerned. It’s something else which Dean can’t quite name. “He’s a substitute teacher. Mostly teaching art and P.E., and he wants to start a photography club soon. He started four days ago. Why do you ask about him?”  
Dean ignores the question and presses on. “How well do you know him?”  
Instead of answering right away like Dean expects, Milton stares at him critically. “Again, why do you want to know? Did he do something?”  
Normally Milton would make some facetious remarks to piss Dean off, but this time he seems very focused and serious. Dean just knows that something’s wrong.  
So he contemplates whether he should tell Milton the truth, and eventually, he sighs. “I’m trying to figure that out,” he answers honestly. “In any case, there are a lot of neighbors as well as worried parents who, uh…expressed their concerns.” Actually, Dean thinks, they want to get Novak into trouble, but he can’t say it that way.  
To his surprise, Milton scoffs and reaches for the black telephone on his desk. “Yes, Cassie always had talent at rubbing people the wrong way.” He dials a number, but before Dean can ask him who he’s calling, and why the hell now, Milton continues talking, looking up at Dean. “You do realize, though, that the neighbors in this town are mostly a pain in the arse? And,” he laughs a weird, short laugh that Dean’s never heard before from Milton. “Parents are always worried about their children. This isn’t the first complaint I’ve received when it comes to the teachers here.”  
“Yes, I know that”, Dean says, sighing. “But this is serious. I have to make sure your guy didn’t do anything wrong.”  
Milton’s eyes narrow and he looks like he wants to reply, but then his attention shifts to the telephone. “Hey, get your miserable arse over here. Yes, now!” He hangs up and rolls his eyes, before he looks at Dean, folding his hands on his stomach. He doesn’t explain to Dean who he called and why.  
“See,” Dean tries again, “I just want to know why you picked Novak. What do you think of him? I’m sure you have, like, a personnel file. CV, whatever. I need something to work with.”  
Milton snorts. “No. I won’t give you anything unless you bring a search warrant.” He sounds determined, and there’s something about his behavior that makes Dean wary. Normally, Milton would bitch about police work, but in the end, he’d give in and help. But this time, he won’t make it easy for Dean.

 

There’s a knock on the door, and it opens immediately after. Dean turns around in his chair while Milton stands.  
“Cas, meet the sheriff, Dean Winchester.”  
Suddenly, Dean’s mouth goes dry. Yeah, he kinda figured that he’d probably see Novak again, and probably today, but he still doesn’t feel prepared. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know what it is about Novak, but as soon as he lays his eyes on the teacher, he feels helpless. Words fail him and he gapes like a fish at the other man, staring at the mop of messy hair—apparently Novak doesn’t comb, or he has just been fucked in a broom closet by a colleague or something—staring at blue eyes which are icy cold now. It makes Dean uncomfortable, and he quickly lowers his gaze, noticing the very casual clothes that Novak’s wearing. The teachers at the High Schools around here are mostly dressed kinda formal; overdressed, if you ask Dean, because it’s just school, right? But apparently it has something to do with representation, and kids should learn early to dress nicely, yada yada.  
And then here’s the new teacher, wearing worn-out, dark blue jeans that seem to be a bit too big for him, sneakers, and a grey T-Shirt that’s seen better days. But, oh fuck, it says “I love bacon”, with a picture of a happy bacon with feet and fists that are pumped into the air. Bacon. Oh. Novak’s a guy after his own heart, Dean knows that right away. Fuck.

 

“We know each other already,” Novak’s gravelly voice reveals, and Milton sighs.  
“Of course you do.” The principal steps around his desk. “I think you two should have a chat.”  
Novak squints at Dean, then at Milton. “Is that so?”  
“Yes, Cas. Now. And behave.”  
Novak snorts without entering the office. “What’s this about? The color of my house?”  
“No,” Dean answers as he finally gets up from his chair. He steps closer to Novak. “I wouldn’t visit you here for that.”  
Novak rolls his eyes. “Fine, so what am I accused of now? Not wearing a bow tie in class?”  
Milton leans against his desk, arms crossed. “It’s probably your sex hair, Cassie. I told you, it’s offending. Some housewives will get ideas when they pick up their kids here, and their husbands probably don’t like them ogling you.”  
Novak looks incredibly annoyed, and it shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is, and Dean’s reminded of his dry mouth as he stares, once more, at the dark, thick ‘sex hair’ and yes, he agrees with Milton. It’s an accurate term. But in no fucking way offending, if you ask him.  
“Sheriff?”  
Dean flinches and snaps back to attention. Both men are looking at him quizzically. “Yeah, let’s talk,” he murmurs and looks at Novak, who doesn’t seem to be happy about that.  
“I have class soon.”  
“Then we’ll make it quick. I can follow you to wherever you have to be.”  
Novak sighs, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Before he turns around to the door, he glares at the principal, and Dean’s a bit surprised at that, because they interact a bit too familiarly for two men who’ve probably only known each other for a few days.

 

When they leave the office, Dean waves a goodbye to Daisy and follows Novak out into the hallways.  
“Are you childhood friends or something?” Dean blurts out, feeling his cheeks heat up a little at the unfiltered question.  
Novak squints at him. “Balthazar and me?” Dean has to suppress a grin at the name. The principal’s first name is still so weird, if you ask him. In order not to huff an inappropriate laugh, he just nods. “No, not exactly a childhood friend.”  
Dean raises his eyebrows as Novak doesn’t elaborate. “You seem kind of familiar with each other.”  
Novak squints up at him. He’s a few inches shorter than Dean. “I don’t think that this is what you wanted to talk about with me.”  
Dean doesn’t reply, because Novak opens a door and then they are in a room that’s probably the teachers’ lounge since two older women sit at a table quietly discussing something. He has seen them once or twice at the school already.  
“Wait a second,” Novak mumbles, nods at the women before he walks into a corner to gather some stuff.  
The two female teachers glance at Dean with open curiosity. They probably already figured out what his presence means, and that it has to do something with Novak. Ugh. They don’t ask him anything, though, and after ten seconds, he follows Novak out of the room. “The class room will be empty for a while.”  
A pleasant shiver runs down Dean’s spine as he listens to the deep voice. Fuck, is there anything not sexy about Novak? Why does Dean think he’s sexy at all? He doesn’t even know him!  
Dean’s getting annoyed, about himself, about Novak, about this whole thing.

 

As soon as the classroom door closes behind them, Dean starts without thinking. “I just, uh, wanted to see how you’re doing here. How you’re settling in.” He’s too soft with the citizens, most of the time. It’s not quite the truth what he says, but he doesn’t want to accuse Novak right away.  
But it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Novak squints at him, tilting his head to the side. His gaze is piercing. “Is that so? Do you do that with every neighbor who’s freshly moved in?” Dean doesn’t grace this with an answer and it seems like Novak doesn’t expect one anyway. “I thought so.” The expression in his eyes gets cold. “You’re lying to me, and I want to know the real reason why you’re here. It’s the second time in very few days, and I don’t think it’s a good sign. So?” he prompts.  
Dean sighs while he fiddles with his brown sheriff hat, then he lifts his gaze. “Do you use or sell any drugs?”  
Novak’s eyes go wide as he stares right back at Dean. It’s not the ‘fuck I got caught’ expression, it’s something else. He’s truly surprised, maybe even hurt by that accusation?  
There’s a long silence before Novak finally answers. “No.”  
Dean’s eyes narrow as he studies Novak’s face, then he gives a short nod. “Alright.”  
“What is this about?”  
Dean cards a hand through his hair, staring out of one of the windows. “There have been…certain complaints, or rather concerns, by parents and neighbors, and I just wanted to make sure that everything’s alright.”  
When he looks at Novak again, he’s stony-faced. “Can you be a bit more specific?”  
Dean grunts and throws his hat on one of the tables. “People complain so much about you, and it’s annoying, really, because it’s mostly stupid bullshit. But two or three of them complained about you specifically in school, not wanting to teach you here, but I guess the principal knows what he does and who he hires. One person, though, stated that you take drugs or deal them, and that would be a real problem. I spoke to the person and apparently, you were spotted smoking some weird shit.”  
Novak’s eyes twitch, then his face goes lax and he shuts his eyes, laughing. “Yeah, sure, I’ve been caught smoking. A cigarette,” he clarifies, sobering up. He drags a hand over his face. “Fuck those nosy neighbors. For this, I’ll paint half of the house blue.”  
Dean grins. “You’re serious about that, huh?”  
“Yes. They want trouble, they get it.” Novak looks at him, his lips twitching a little. “I apologize for the extra work I’ll cause you.”  
Dean shrugs. “It’s fine, I guess. Just don’t do anything illegal, and you should be okay.” He tilts his head. “You get a kick out of annoying them?”  
Novak shakes his head. “No. Not really. I would actually like to-…” He stops and lowers his head. “Whatever. I need to prepare class, if that’s alright.”  
Dean nibbles at his lower lip as he stares at Novak, who fumbles with brushes and acrylic paint, according to the label. He actually thought the ice was broken between them, but suddenly, Novak appears to be closed off. “Yeah. Do your thing. I won’t bother you any longer.”  
He takes his hat and goes to the door, and as steps through it, he hears Novak’s gravelly voice once more.  
“Sheriff?” He turns around, his eyes immediately drawn to those captivating blue eyes. There’s always some distrust in them, but now, they sparkle with mischief. “One day, I’d like to draw you like one of my French girls.” He winks at Dean. “In private, of course.”  
Suddenly, Dean’s mouth is dry again and he feels his cheeks heat up. “Uh…” Right, Novak’s an art teacher. But somehow he doubts that the guy would just draw or paint him. His voice implies…other things. Dean licks his lips nervously, noticing that Novak tracks the motion with his eyes. While he desperately tries to come up with a witty reply, Novak suddenly steps closer, smirking at him, and then—he closes the door, shutting Dean out of the classroom.  
Well. That went better than he expected.

 

On his way back to his cruiser, he meets the principal.  
“How was the talk?” Milton asks, and Dean smiles.  
“Everything’s alright.”  
Milton nods. “That’s good to hear. I wouldn’t want my baby brother in trouble. I’ll give you a hard time if you mess with him.”  
Dean raises his brows. “Brother?” That’s news to him.  
Milton smirks. “Yes, Castiel is my brother.”  
“Oh… I didn’t think of it, since your last names are different.” He briefly wonders if Novak is married. But then again, it doesn’t seem like he’s moved in with another person.  
Milton doesn’t comment on that. “Please, stay out of his way. He’s had a tough time already.”  
Dean narrows his eyes. “So it’s a new start here?” Milton just nods. “And you only gave him the job because he’s your brother?”  
“It certainly had an influence on my decision. The school happened to have a vacancy at the same time Castiel needed a safe place to stay. He needs to be with his family now. Every one of us takes care of him here, especially since the citizens of this cute town give him a hard time already. Luckily, our Cassie is fully qualified, even if his certifications are for a different state.”  
Dean’s stunned at the open honesty of Milton. It’s clear he cares about his brother, and Dean always thought badly of the principal. But it seems like he’s got a heart after all. It seems like he doesn’t look at everything like it’s a joke (that’s the feeling he always has when it comes to Milton. Lucas and Gabriel make a similar impression on Dean, and wow, Castiel apparently is a Milton, too!).  
Dean nods. “Okay. I understand. Keep this between us: I think all of this is ridiculous. I’m sure things will settle eventually, okay?”  
Milton nods. “Thank you, Sheriff. The next time we meet, I hope it’s because some dumb kid is in trouble.”  
Dean smiles and says his goodbye.

 

He’s actually got a lot of questions, but he’s in no position to ask any of them.  
On his way back to the station, he thinks about Castiel Novak. Why the fuck does this man get him so flustered each time they meet? Dean feels like he transforms into a dumb Neanderthal when he’s around Novak, feeling the sudden urge to jump his bones. Fuck.  
Dean is aware of the fact that he’s not exactly straight, but it’s not that he’s only attracted to men. He likes what he likes, that’s what he goes with for a few years now. But this strong attraction or whatever that he feels for Castiel Novak? It’s unnerving, and it’s kinda new. He doesn’t particularly like it, because he doesn’t know what’s going on.

 

Maybe he’ll never see Novak again and that’s it. End of story. He won’t have to question his sexuality, or the urges of his body.

He’s wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention of animal abuse!

The following week, the phone calls get fewer, and Dean doesn’t see Castiel Novak again. He also doesn’t see Sam, again. Predictably, Dean spent the weekend alone, because his brother got caught up in a particularly nasty case involving domestic violence. Under these circumstances, Dean can’t even find it in him to be mad at Sam. He’s fighting the good fight.  
And so is Dean, most of the time. Today, he arrested some college students who were cultivating a significant amount of cannabis, and he brought a fourteen-year-old girl to the hospital after a friend of her attempted to literally scratch out her eyes because they fought over some seventeen-year-old boy from their school. Kids these days. Sometimes, Dean feels like a kindergartener.  
Now, it’s evening; it’s already dark, and he’s heading back to the station to park the cruiser and then he’ll call it a day. He’s driving along a deserted road that’s located in the outskirts of Sioux Falls, near the regional airport. Kiefer Sutherland’s “Open Road” is playing on the radio, and Dean’s tapping rhythmically onto the steering wheel. It’s not his favorite song, but it’s nice to listen to from time to time.  
He squints and slows the car down, because in the dark, at the side of the road, there’s something vanishing into the trees. Or someone. Eventually, the headlights catch a figure and Dean decides to stop the car in front of it, off the road where it’s lined by some trees and bushes.

  
Slowly, he exits the car, and cautiously approaches the person with a hand on his gun. “Sir, can I help you?” Now that he’s closer, and in the lights of the cruiser, he notices to his utter surprise that it’s Castiel Novak who’s sitting in the grass, hunched over something.  
“Mr. Novak?” His hand is still on his gun, ready to draw it if necessary. In the distance, there are shouts. At his name, Novak turns around to face Dean. His eyes are big—and full of open anger. “Sheriff,” he breathes, then straightens a little as Dean steps next to him, so Dean can see what he’s cradling in his lap. It’s a cat, and it’s whimpering and writhing in Novak’s hands.  
“What happened?” He crouches down and grabs his flashlight, pointing it at the cat while trying to avoid blinding it. There are little patches of blood on the brownish fur.  
When Novak speaks, his voice is shaky. “It’s injured. I saw teenagers sitting between the bushes, and I had the windows open, so I heard the cat cry. I stopped, and…” He swallows audibly, his hand trembling while stroking the cat in order to calm it. “They had some firecrackers and sparklers, and…” Dean’s eyes flick up to Novak’s eyes. Maybe it’s just the play of light, but it seems like they’re glistening with unshed tears. Oof. Dean’s heart clenches and he looks down at the meowing cat in Novak’s hands. It’s clearly in pain. “They burnt its paws,” Novak whispers and Dean’s heart twists in sorrow. He can’t hold back and places a reassuring hand on Novak’s shoulder. His own heart sinks, but he stays focused.  
“I’ll put some deputies on it. We’ll get them for animal cruelty. Right now, let’s take the cat to the vet.” He glances up and finds the Mustang some feet away near the bushes. “You okay to drive?” Immediately, Novak shakes his head. “Okay, then you two will ride with me. Come on.”  
He helps Novak to his feet, who clutches the poor cat to his chest. Opening the passenger door for them, he thinks of the teenagers who hurt the cat. Why would they do such a thing?! He can’t even begin to understand.  
“It’s fifteen minutes, tops,” he says to Novak, glancing to the passenger side. The man just nods while stroking the cat and whispering soothing nonsense.  
Dean floors the gas pedal and with blue light flashing, he drives to the nearest veterinary clinic that’s open 24 hours. Luckily, he knows his way around town, so he doesn’t need to look up directions.  
They arrive at the clinic after nine minutes because he was a bit too fast, but what’s the sheriff’s car for if not for emergencies? He follows Novak inside, helping him to explain the situation. The woman at the front desk seems horrified at the news and hurries to get a vet. “Stay with the cat, I have to call the station,” Dean says to Novak. “You okay?”  
Novak just nods, pale in the bright neon-lights. Dean reaches for his shoulder, again, squeezing it. “Good. See you in a bit.”  
He contacts the station and speaks to Donna to open up a case. It’s done quickly, so he heads back inside the clinic and decides to wait for the vet and Novak instead of searching for them. He doesn’t want to distract the vet or increase the stress level of the poor cat.  
He sits in the waiting room which is empty, and buries his face in his hands. He’s tired after a day full of work, but he’s also worried. About the injured, innocent cat, the teenagers who hurt it, and about Castiel Novak, who’s clearly shaken by the incident. The concern that the man shows touches something in Dean’s chest.

 

When he hears footsteps approaching, he lifts his head. It’s Novak, still pale, no cat in his hands. There’s no anger in his eyes anymore, but he’s clearly exhausted.  
“What’s the verdict?” Dean says as he stands, uneasiness spreading in his chest.  
Novak lets out a shaky sigh as he runs a hand through his dark hair, which is even more messed up as usual, and it shouldn’t be possible, but it is, and it’s hot.  
Dean swallows; now is not the time for these thoughts, and he tries to focus on what Novak says. “She’ll be alright, probably. It’ll take a lot of time for her to heal.”  
“It’s a female?”  
Novak nods. “Yes. Pretty young, around one year old. She doesn’t seem to belong to anyone. No collar, no chip. It’s a stray cat.” He looks incredibly sad. “Her paws and her nose were burnt. They’ll try keep her here until she’s back to normal, but they’re already full of animals. They’ll probably have to put her back on the streets before she’s fully healed.”  
“Oh…” Dean grimaces in sympathy. “Well, shit. But she’ll live. That’s something.” Novak just shrugs, obviously not pleased. “Hey, I’m sorry that I have to ask you right now, but I need your detailed statement on what happened, so I have something I can work with for the investigation.”  
To his surprise, determination crosses Novak’s blue tired eyes. “Sure. I’ll tell you everything you need.” He nods enthusiastically.  
Dean smiles a little. “Thanks. So, should I give you a ride back to your car? I’d hate to let it stand there off the road.”  
Novak stares into space, and it takes some seconds before he nods. “Yes, you’re right…”

  
Dean starts to walk towards the exit, looking over his shoulder to make sure that the other man follows him. “I’ve got a classic myself,” he hears himself say, a poor attempt at distracting Novak from the miserable situation of the cat.  
But Novak takes the opportunity and shoots him a smile as they approach the cruiser. “What kind of classic?”  
“It’s a ‘67 Chevy Impala. My pride and joy. A shiny black beast.”  
“That sounds great.”  
With a pleased nod, Dean starts the car. “Yeah, you should see her one day. I think you and me, we’re the only ones here who drive classic muscle cars.” He grins softly at Novak. “We have to support each other.”  
The other man gives him a small smile. “Only if you stop ‘visiting’ me at school.” Novak uses actual air quotes and Dean has to suppress a laugh because, who does that?!  
“Yeah, I hope I don’t have to do that again.”  
Novak sighs. “I think I just want to go home…” he quietly says, and Dean stares at him, surprised.  
“What about your car?” Novak just shrugs and stares out of the window.  
Dean cards a hand through his hair, thinking. “I can get it towed to your place.” He looks at Novak. “For free. No fees.” Novak doesn’t look convinced. “There’s someone working for us who still owes me one. He’s good people. There’ll be no scratch on your Mustang, I swear.”  
He watches Novak biting his pink, chapped bottom lip, and Dean finds that he’s not able to look away. Fuck.  
“If you… If that’s really okay…” Novak’s voice is small, unsure, so Dean smiles at him.  
“Totally. Let me make a call, then I’ll get you home. I promise, we’ll keep the talk short. Do you mind if we do that inside your house?” Novak hesitates and briefly glances at him before staring down at his own hands. “We, uh, we can do it here, in the car, that’s okay,” Dean then suggests, because it’s clear that Novak doesn’t want him in his house, for whatever reason. He sighs. “Just tell me that it’s not because you’re cultivating cannabis.” He’s had enough of that.  
Novak’s eyes go wide. “No! Of course not.” Then, he eyes Dean with furrowed brows. “Is that still because of that complaint?”  
“No! No, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…” He sighs. “It’s just…. Forget it. I already saw enough Cannabis for today, okay?”  
Novak rolls his eyes. “I’ll give you my statement at home. I’m sure you’ll feel better after that.”  
Dean shakes his head, smiling, before he grabs his phone to call Bobby. The talk is brief as always. “Okay, he’ll bring your car soon. It’ll take some hours though, because he’s still doing another job.”  
Novak nods. “Thank you.” Dean shoots him a quick look, but it’s long enough to see the warmth in Novak’s eyes. His gratitude is genuine.  
“No problem, really,” he says and finally gets the cruiser on the road. He’d have loved to show Novak the Impala, but it’s parked elsewhere, tucked away safely in the underground garage below the station.

 

“So, how’s it going with repainting the house?” Dean asks before silence can settle over them.  
Novak huffs a laugh. “I haven’t had the time to start yet. But it’ll happen.”  
“Yeah, I’m sure. Do you have to redo the graffiti?”  
Novak shakes his head. “No, I plan on painting a blue stripe right under the roof, so it won’t touch the graffiti. It took me way too long to get this done.”  
Dean smiles and nods, thinking of something else to ask. “What, uh, what did you do in the outskirts, anyway?”  
Novak runs a hand through his dark hair. “I wanted to take some photos for the photography club at school that I’m about to start. I saw the teenagers incidentally.”  
“Thank god,” Dean murmurs, Novak just nodding. “So, uh, you’re an art teacher?”  
“Yes. And Balthazar tries to get me into teaching P.E., but…I don’t want to.”  
“Why not?”  
Novak grins at him. “Because. I’m a lazy asshole these days.” He shrugs and Dean laughs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m also not keen on having sweaty teenagers all around me. They smell.”  
It’s said with a joking tone, and Dean grins. “The babysitter of my nephew is, like, fifteen or something. Man, she sucks right now. She was so sweet when she was a toddler,” he says, laughing fondly when he thinks of her. “She’s not a bad kid, really, but when they hit puberty… Ugh.”  
Novak nods in understanding and reaches for his seatbelt since they’ve arrived at his house.  
When Dean exits the car and follows Novak to the gate, he thinks of the dog that the man owns. He doesn’t feel good about that. Hesitating, he enters the house, trailing behind Novak. He looks around nervously, and of course Novak notices. “We are alone. I brought Bee to my brother this morning, so that I had more time today to head out.”  
“B?”  
“Bee. Short for Bumblebee.”  
“I see.” Dean grins and follows Novak to the kitchen.

It’s a small house, but it’s homey. It’s full of knick-knacks and books without being messy or too chaotic.  
They sit down and Dean pulls a notepad and a pen out of the pocket of his shirt. He left his jacket and hat in the car. Since they’re both tired and emotionally exhausted, Dean tries to ask the right questions, the necessary ones, to get an adequate statement in a short span of time. He wants to let Novak go to sleep soon, and he’s longing for a bed himself, but it’s a bit hard to concentrate because if he’s not mistaken, Novak’s eyes drop frequently to Dean’s lips. He probably thinks Dean doesn’t notice. But oh, does he notice.

 

He’s glad to hear that Novak had been able to see the faces of two of the three teenagers. He also promises Dean to draw them himself and bring the drawings to the station tomorrow. In this case, it’s nice to have an art teacher as a witness.  
It’s already close to midnight when they head to the front door. When Novak opens it, he stops and squints at the floor.  
“What’s the matter?” Dean angles his head to the side and sees a bouquet of flowers lying on the door mat. “Oh. Seems like you have a secret admirer.” Something twists inside him.  
To his surprise, Novak’s hands shake as he slowly picks up the flowers. “I don’t…” Novak swallows and turns around, getting deeper into the hallway to put them onto a sideboard.  
“Is everything okay?” Dean’s eyes narrow, because Novak seems a bit out of it, again, so he decides to close the door, instead of leaving right away.  
“This…this wasn’t you, right?” Novak asks, squinting at him, eyeing him warily.  
Dean tilts his head, sensing that this isn’t the time for a joke. “No, that certainly wasn’t me. We were together the whole time, remember? You would have noticed if I suddenly had some flowers in my hands.” He steps closer to the man. “Mr. Novak, what’s wrong?”  
“It’s Castiel,” Novak mutters and finally looks up at him, waiting for a reaction, probably.  
“Uh…okay, Castiel. What’s wrong?”  
Novak—Castiel—rubs his face and gestures towards the flowers. “Don’t you think…it’s creepy?”  
“I don’t know… I get things all the time… But it’s probably different. Maybe it’s from a student?”  
“Maybe… But I’m still new at the school”, Castiel points out. “And nobody likes me.”  
Dean smiles softly. “You know, when I moved here and started working at the station, most people didn’t like me, too. It’s just…” He shrugs. “You have to gain their trust, man.”  
“They don’t make it easy.”  
“No, they don’t.” Dean rakes his eyes over Castiel. Fuck, he’s beautiful. He takes a step closer and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get there. It’s worth living here…Castiel.”  
To his surprise, Castiel lifts his hand to cover Dean’s with it, his palm is big and warm as he looks up into Dean’s eyes. “Thank you. For…everything. I mean it.”  
“Don’t mention it.”  
The smile that Castiel gives him then, is shy. It’s sweet, and it’s genuine, and it makes something flutter in Dean’s chest. Crap, he’s so screwed.  
Suddenly, the hand on top of Dean’s feels rather hot. He can see Castiel’s eyes drop to his lips for the umpteenth time today, and that’s it. That’s fucking it.  
He knows for a few days now that he wants Castiel, but it hasn’t occurred to him yet, that maybe Castiel wants him, too, despite his weird “French girls” comment.  
“Sheriff…Dean…” Castiel’s voice dropped even lower, and it makes Dean shudder slightly. He stares into these big blue eyes that maybe, just maybe, already occurred in his dreams once or twice. “May I kiss you?”  
Dean swallows audibly, taking in a deep breath. Whoa. Shit. Shit. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t, because he’s still on duty, and he’s the Sheriff, he doesn’t fuck around, and he doesn’t really know this guy, and Castiel probably is just emotional right now, not wanting to be alone, and…and…

 

Dean nods silently, watching Castiel’s gorgeous face coming closer. The second their lips touch, Dean shuts his eyes, so he can fully concentrate on the feeling.  
It’s so good to feel these lips on his own, they’re warm and soft, they open up so Dean can slide his tongue inside that hot mouth. His hands drop to Castiel’s hips, and he pulls his body closer, so that they’re flush together, touching from lips to chest to groin.  
He feels Castiel’s arms around his waist as their tongues slide together, and Dean sighs quietly into their kiss. Castiel’s body feels pliant under his hands as he lets them roam over his back, then they settle on Castiel’s ass cheeks. Fuck, they feel good, and it seems like Castiel also enjoys the touch, because his breath hitches while he presses closer to Dean.  
Sucking Castiel’s lower lip between his teeth, Dean opens his eyes to take in the flushed cheeks, the eyes gone dark with lust. He can’t resist, he pulls back a little as he slides his hands into Castiel’s hair, messing it up even more. The strands are thick, yet soft; it feels nice, Dean thinks as he angles Cas’ head just right so that he can lick deeper into his tempting mouth.  
With a pleased sound in the back of his throat, Castiel briefly shuts his eyes, clearly enjoying the kiss, then his hands come up and gently grip Dean’s biceps. “Dean, god… Please, let me suck you off. It’s all I could think of in the past days.”  
Dean swallows, his eyes widen. Castiel’s bluntness makes him fucking blush, but it also has his dick twitching in his pants. “You… Really?” he asks breathlessly, to which Castiel only nods, then Dean’s already being tugged to the bedroom.

  
There are a few boxes from the move tucked into one corner, and there’s also a dresser, a big window hidden by a large black curtain, and well, a king-sized bed full of pillows. Castiel pushes most of them off the bed, and Dean quickly shuts the bedroom door, before he joins him at the edge of the bed.  
The whole situation took an unexpected turn for sure, but right now, Dean doesn’t care. He doesn’t question anything; he isn’t able to think anyway. Castiel smells so good, like summer, and Dean wants to wrap himself around him. And he does just that for a short moment. Wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, he buries his face in his neck, dark hair tickling his nose as he inhales. He feels Castiel’s hands cup his ass, pulling them flush together, so he can feel Castiel’s erection straining against his pants.  
Castiel’s scent is heady, intoxicating, and it must be the reason for the fast pace they set. It takes them less than two minutes to undress each other. As aroused as Dean is, though, he takes his time to carefully put aside his duty belt.

  
In the meantime, Castiel finishes getting undressed and when Dean turns around to face him, he’s already lying on the bed, his head propped up on pillows. Dean takes a few seconds to rake his eyes over the gloriously naked body displayed in front of him, and his mouth waters. Castiel’s skin is golden and tanned, and fuck, there are tattoos on his arm—looking like green and yellow leaves, arranged in a way that remind Dean of mandalas—and one on the base of his neck. It seems to be some kind of writing. It’s a language Dean doesn’t recognize, starting between Cas’ shoulder and neck, reaching down over his collar bone to the hollow of his throat.  
Dean’s eyes are greedily following the dark happy trail that leads from Castiel’s belly button down to his already hard and leaking dick.  
Dean climbs onto the bed, briefly glancing at Castiel’s strong and muscular thighs. He likes them, imagines them being wrapped around him, and boy, that thought makes his dick twitch. Castiel looks like sin come to life. And it seems like he knows what Dean’s thinking, because he has that smug look on his face.  
Dean grins as he inches closer and sinks into Castiel’s welcoming arms, and down onto his pliant body as he straddles Castiel’s hips. He’s warm and solid underneath Dean, and they both moan softly when their cocks meet, sliding against each other between their bellies.

  
Castiel’s hands drop to the back of Dean’s thighs, urging him to slide up Castiel’s body. “Dean, come here.” And kind of helpless, with wide eyes, Dean complies the request, a swooping sensation in his gut. Now straddling Castiel’s chest, Dean stares into his lust blown eyes, but he’s immediately distracted by his own hard dick hovering right above Castiel’s sweet, chapped lips.  
“Cas…” he mutters and the man smiles up at him.  
“I said that I wanted to suck you off, right?” His voice is low, sexy, and Dean can’t help the whimper that escapes his throat when his dick bumps against Castiel’s pink lips, smearing a bit of pre-come across them. The sight makes his breath hitch in his throat, and Castiel looks smug once more, before he opens his mouth in invitation. Dean feels Castiel’s hands on the back of his thighs slide up to squeeze his ass cheeks, gently pushing him forward.  
And with that, Dean’s engulfed by a hot and—as he immediately finds out—skilled mouth. Gasping in pleasure, he grabs Castiel’s shoulders, just to have something to hold on to.

  
Encouraged by Castiel’s hands, he begins to thrust into his wet mouth, and Castiel swallows him down without any noticeable effort. Shuddering, Dean closes his eyes for a moment, because seeing Castiel like that, with his disheveled dark hair, cheeks flushed and lips stretched around his dick, it already pushes Dean close to the edge, and he doesn’t wanna come just yet.  
But Castiel seems to have exactly this goal in mind—making Dean come in record time. Dean moans as his thrusts become more erratic, and Castiel doesn’t seem to mind. He just takes it, eyes closed in concentration. Dean lets his fingers travel from Castiel’s shoulders to his face, caressing his cheeks and feeling the shape of himself under his fingertips. When Castiel opens his eyes at the touch, they lock with Dean’s, and they’re so gorgeous, so intense, that an even stronger spark of lust runs through Dean’s body. “Fuck, Cas, Castiel…” And that’s it, Dean starts babbling nonsense as he pumps his hips into that talented mouth, enjoying the tongue that swirls around his dick, occasionally pressing against sensitive spots.

  
He feels one of Castiel’s hands dropping to his thigh, caressing it with gentle squeezes. Dean groans and lets his head fall back. By now, his brain’s completely offline and he’s fucking Cas’ mouth in earnest; his hands still cradling Cas’ jaw.  
“Fuck, Cas, your mouth…” Dean moans and grunts in pleasure, and when he feels Castiel’s fingers on his ass shifting slightly, one finger suddenly rubbing over his hole, he’s caught off guard. “Ah, Cas! I’m…” That’s all he manages before he’s coming down Castiel’s throat, buried deep inside him; his dick touching Castiel’s soft palate.  
Dean shudders as the power of his orgasm washes over him, and he feels Castiel swallowing his come. Gasping for air, Dean slows the thrusts of his hips, and he opens his eyes to take in the utterly wrecked state of Castiel. He looks smoking hot like that and Dean’s dick twitches one last time, before he carefully pulls out of Castiel’s talented mouth.  
“Ungh…” Dean doesn’t have the strength to build words, and he lets himself fall to the side, facing Castiel, who wipes his hand over his chin.  
“I take it you liked that.”  
Dean nods and a soft smile appears on Castiel’s lips. When he takes a deep breath to get his brain back online, Dean puts a hand on Castiel’s broad chest, tracing his right nipple. “You a sex god or something?”  
Castiel huffs a laugh. “No.” His voice sounds hoarse. Sexier than ever.  
“More like a porn star then?”  
Dean gets a fond eye roll for that. “No.”  
“You’re very good at this.”

  
Castiel just shrugs, but Dean can tell he’s pretty proud of himself, and yeah, why shouldn’t he?  
“Come on,” with his hands, Dean urges him up and pulls him on top of him. He confidently grips Castiel’s nicely shaped cock; it’s bigger than Dean’s, and the fact sends a thrill down his spine. How would it feel to have Castiel inside him? If he wouldn’t have come just mere minutes ago, he’d be hard again by now.  
Castiel sighs, both hands placed right next to Dean’s head as he fucks into his fist. His dick is flushed a deep red, pre-come easing the movements. Castiel seems to be close already, groaning softly as his thrusts grow more frantic. He’s chanting Dean’s name, eyes closed.  
“Cas, let go… Come all over me,” he says, and apparently, it’s the right thing to say, because Castiel moans, and then again, even louder as he spills over Dean’s hand, stomach and up to his chest.  
Dean smiles, withdrawing his hand when Castiel gets too sensitive. Panting, Castiel slumps onto Dean’s chest, and Dean loops his arms around Cas’ shoulders.

  
Silence falls over them as they come down from their highs, and Dean’s starting to get embarrassed. Because he doesn’t do one-night-stands, and this right here? This is the epitome of a one-night-stand.  
Castiel seems to feel him tensing, and he sits up, looking down at him with a neutral face. “Is it going to get awkward now?”  
Dean opens his mouth, then closes it again, thinking, before he opens it once more. “I, uh, I don’t know. Isn’t it supposed to get awkward?”  
“It?”  
“One-night-stands?” Dean licks his lips and stares up at Castiel, who doesn’t answer for a while. “Did you… Is this something else for you?” Dean’s eyes widen a little at the thought.  
Castiel blinks. “No… Of course not.” He stands up and shoots him a small smile. “I’ll get us something to clean up with.” And indeed, Castiel seems to be cool with the situation.

 

He gets up as Castiel returns with a wet washcloth. After cleaning up, Dean steps into his boxers. “I better get going,” he says and sees Castiel nodding. He quickly dresses and put his duty belt back around his waist. Shit, getting laid while on duty. Ugh.  
Castiel follows him to the front door, briefly touching his arm. “It was nice, Dean.” His smile is genuine.  
“Yeah. Uh, thanks.” When Castiel lifts his eyebrows, Dean rubs his neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t… I’m not sure about the protocol here. You know, I actually don’t do one-night-stands.”  
Castiel smiles again. “Me neither, Dean. I understand. Drive safely, okay?”  
Dean nods and steps out of the house. When he glances over his shoulder, the front door is slowly closing, and the last thing he sees is Castiel gripping the flower bouquet tightly, a deep frown between his eyes. He doesn’t seem to be happy about the little gift. Huh.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean stays in touch with Castiel, if mostly for the case of animal abuse. He gets pictures of two of the teenagers involved after Cas had been to the station. Unfortunately, Dean wasn’t there when Cas had talked to their sketch artist. They talk a few times over the phone, but they don’t see each other again, and they especially don’t engage in sex again.

Which, maybe, makes him sulk a little. Being with Cas was awesome. The sex had been great, and Dean would love to get Cas into bed again, and he can’t stop thinking about the things he wanted to do to him... And judging by the looks Cas had given him, he thinks the same.

Every time they talk on the phone, Dean has a hard time not to think about phone sex, wondering if he could coax Castiel into this because his calm, gravelly voice is amazing. But he doesn’t say anything. He also doesn’t ask Castiel if they could meet in private. It would be like a date or something, and Dean couldn’t bear a negative answer.

So, they keep on dancing around each other, calling one another more often than strictly necessary, which is how Dean learns about other little gifts Castiel receives over the days, and it makes him uneasy. Something flares in his chest every time Castiel mentions a box of chocolate, more flowers, or a nice book. With every passing day, he’s closer to asking for a date. But he’s not there yet, and so he learns some things about Castiel’s brothers as well, and about Castiel’s dog. They also talk about the cat at the vet clinic, which Castiel visits on daily basis. She’s healing slowly, but she’s getting better.

A week after the incident, they track the teenagers down, but although they’ll get their penalty for what they’ve done, it leaves a bitter aftertaste for Dean. The boys didn’t really care. He’s sure that they didn’t even realize how wrong it was to torture a cat like that, and in the back of his mind, he’s wondering if they’ll do something like that again. The only thing left for him to do is to hope that the penalty is severe enough to keep them from doing something like that again. Talking to them hadn’t been successful.

 

It’s a quiet day in early summer and the sun’s just started setting, when Dean’s in the vet clinic to see for himself how the cat’s holding up. He’s just slightly more of a cat person than a dog’s, but he feels strangely invested in this case. He can’t forget the whining of the cat, he can’t forget the devastated look in Castiel’s eyes, the shock and the disbelief that humans could do such a thing—just for fun, as it had turned out.

Dean crouches in front of the wall of cat cages and gives Castiel’s stray cat a small smile. She’s tucked into a corner, eying him blearily. Her little paws are bandaged, all four of them. She can’t move well that way, but it’s necessary in order to heal properly.

A quick glance at his watch reveals that he’s been staring at the cat for six minutes. He’d asked about her day, about her pain level, about Castiel and if she liked him. Of course, there’d been no response. The cat kept looking at him with wary eyes. After what had happened to her, Dean can’t blame her for being careful. _She must hate humans now_ , he thinks as he sticks his finger between the bars of the enclosure. But the cat doesn’t come closer to sniff at it.

Dean sighs and is about to get up, when he hears footsteps—and a familiar deep voice.

“You have to bribe her,” Castiel provides helpfully, before he crouches down right next to Dean. When he opens his right hand, Dean sees a few treats in his palm. He shoots Castiel a charming smile, who blushes slightly at that. Huh. “Would you like to try it?”

“Sure.” Dean takes a treat and throws it inside of the enclosure, aiming for the center of it. The cat lifts her head and sniffs, then tries to get on her feet. It’s not really working, but she manages to crawl a bit forward. “Poor thing,” Dean sighs, but then he smiles as the cat licks at the treat. “You’re doing great, buddy. Better than I could’ve imagined.”

He can feel Castiel’s intense gaze on him, but neither of them says a word. They also never mentioned that night between them and Dean kinda regrets it now. When he looks at Castiel, he’s still gorgeous, breathtaking, and there’s something like a tug on Dean’s heart every time he hears or sees Castiel. It doesn’t go away.

Dean swallows as he watches Castiel putting a treat on two fingers and guiding those into the enclosure, between the bars. The cat eyes him warily, but then moves closer, and Dean’s eyes widen as she opens her mouth and licks a few times until she’s gotten the treat between her teeth.

“Wow…” Dean breathes and looks at Cas, amazed. “How did you do that?”

Castiel shoots him a pleased smile. “It’s just training, basically. I gained a little bit of her trust with each day I was visiting.”

Dean nods. Yeah, Cas comes here frequently. “That’s cool. She seems to like you.”

Castiel looks at the cat, his small smile full of fondness. “And I like her.”

“So, um…” Dean shifts a bit on his feet, which are starting to hurt a little from crouching so long. “Why don’t you take her with you, once she’s well again?”

At that, Castiel lowers his head, the smile fading in an instant. “I can’t do that. I have a dog, Dean. I don’t know if they’d be comfortable with each other. I can’t just experiment like that.”

“Oh…” Dean flushes with embarrassment. “Sorry, I, don’t know much about pets…”

“It’s okay.” Cas eyes him with a soft look on his face. “I already thought about it, too. I’d love to look after her, but it’s not that easy.” He busies himself with giving the cat more treats.

“What a shame,” Dean mumbles and Castiel just nods, watching the cat.

“Did you talk to the vet about it?”

“Ah, no… I don’t think it would make any difference,” Castiel answers as he tries to stroke his fingers across the cat’s fur, but she’s still too anxious and shies away from the touch, so Castiel withdraws his hand.

“Does she have a name?”

Castiel huffs a laugh. “They named her Phoenix. I don’t know if it’s appropriate, given the circumstances of her injuries.”

Dean grimaces. “Yeah, seems a bit morbid, if you ask me. But…that aside, it’s also kind of…accurate. There were no ashes that she rose from, but still…She was burned, she survived it. Well.” He shrugs and looks at Castiel, who’s raised his brows. _Shut your dumb trap, Dean._

“I guess you’re right,” Castiel says and gets up on his feet. “I have to go. My photography class is about to start.”

“Oh, cool. Good luck with it.”

“Thank you, Dean. Take care.”

Dean contemplates asking Castiel for a date now; he’s scraping his courage together, but when he manages to open his mouth, Castiel is already gone.

Dean’s shoulders slump and he gives the cat one last look, who stares up at him with accusing eyes. Or so it seems. “Yeah, I’m stupid.”

But there’s a little idea forming in his head, and he goes to search the staff. If Castiel won’t ask about the possibilities of getting the cat into a dog household, Dean will do it.

 

It takes almost an hour for him to leave the vet clinic, because the female staff has decided to gang up on him, but between flirting and seducing looks on their side he managed to get some important info out of them, though.

 

**.oOo.**

Two days later, Dean’s once more at Lincoln High. And again, not because of a kid in trouble. At least, it’s also not because of Castiel, although some neighbors or parents from the High School still utter their disapproval. But Dean ignores it, the principal as well, it seems, and Castiel…Castiel didn’t say anything so far, either.

 

When Dean pulls into the parking lot, he gets a glimpse of the sports field. A few hours ago, the station received a call from one of the teachers, stating that students discovered patches of blood between the school building and the sports field. There could be an easy explanation for this, but it also could get nasty. Dean really hopes it’ll be the first.

He exits the car, leaving his hat and jacket in there because it’s a warm afternoon. Smoothing down his tan dress shirt, he looks around, pleased to see that there are no students around. He heads to the sports field and he can already tell by the noise coming from that direction that there’s a class in the middle of their P.E. lesson. Ugh.

When he’s past the school building, the sports field opens to him. He squints against the bright sunlight assaulting his eyes. Fuck, he forgot his sunglasses in the cruiser. Well, shit.

He tries to look out for the principal, who he’s supposed to meet up with. Instead, he discovers someone else. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean mutters under his breath as he takes a couple of steps closer to the running track.

Yes, there are students in the middle of their P.E. lesson. It’s track and field athletics time, by the looks of it. Guess who’s teaching them.

Castiel fucking Novak. And he looks even hotter in his sportswear. _Of course._

Dean can’t decide whether he should feel blessed to see Castiel like this, or if he should feel cursed. It’s probably the latter, because the longer he stares at Cas, the more he wants to jump his bones, but since they are surrounded by teenagers, he can’t just do that. For a few seconds though, he _ogles_ Cas, watching him running with a few students. Dean can see the muscles working in his runner’s legs, dark blue shorts caressing his strong thighs. The grey shirt that he’s wearing is more of a tight fit, showing off his broad shoulders and the tattoo on his left arm. Cas is already sweating like a porn star, or, well, like an athlete, and it should probably be gross, but it just adds to his sexiness, Dean thinks as he watches the beads of sweat sliding down on Cas’ neck, over the tattooed writing and pooling in his collar bone.

Dean swallows, his mouth dry. He’s _so_ screwed. And he doesn’t even try to be subtle in his staring.

 

The spell’s broken when a few students at the side of the field notice him. It doesn’t take long until Castiel sees him, too, and he shouts something towards his students, before he jogs in Dean’s direction to join him right off the track.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey Cas,” Dean mumbles with a shaky voice. He clears his throat, shifting slightly uncomfortable on his feet.

Castiel gets this smug look on his face, probably pleased to see he still has that kind of effect on Dean. “What is it this time? What have I done?” Cas asks, tilting his head.

Dean’s smile is small. He feels kinda bad, knowing that Cas thinks people keep sending the Sheriff to him. “It’s not you, really. I’m actually waiting for your brother.”

“I guess because of those blood stains?” He points onto the other side of the sports field.

“Right. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you loath sweaty teenagers.”

Castiel’s sigh is deep as his shoulders slump forward. “Well, Bal threatened to cut my salary, so I gave in,” he explains dramatically, obviously exaggerating. Dean raises his brows and Castiel throws a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the students behind him. “Their teacher didn’t show up today and I was the only possible replacement. I guess Meg’s sick or something.”

“Meg? Are you friends already?”

Castiel shrugs, obviously not aware of the slightly jealous tone in Dean’s voice. “Kind of. She’s the only one who’s very nice to me. We hang out a lot around school.”

Oh. Okay. Well, it’s good that Castiel’s made a friend, right?

“Cool.”

Castiel grins at him as if he knows how Dean’s feeling. “Don’t worry, Dean. I’m only interested in dicks.”

The lewd comment throws Dean a little and he feels a blush rising to his ears.

“Sure, uh…” He nods, trying desperately to find something else to talk about. “You know, you look good today.” _Uh, shoot me!_

A grin spreads on Cas’ face as he rakes his eyes over Dean’s body. “You too, Sheriff.”

Trying to fight another blush, Dean crosses his arms. “Uniforms one of your kinks?” _Duh._

Castiel’s beautiful eyes travel back to his face, locking with Dean’s. “I’m getting there, I think.”

Dean bites his lower lip as he tries to stay calm, tries to talk his dick down which started to get interested.

A bit desperate, Dean clears his throat and points in the general direction of the blood stains. “Hey, I’ll probably need your statement. We’ll most likely need to interview a lot of people in order to find out what happened here.”

Castiel’s smile is slow and lazy as he steps closer to Dean. “Oh, we can certainly _talk,_ Dean. Maybe we can do that at my place?” Dean almost chokes on his own spit because _whoa what the hell?_ Castiel is obviously implying something inappropriate. And Dean certainly shouldn’t act on it. “Let’s meet in, say, two hours at my place?” He smirks. “You’ll get a helluva statement from me, if you wish.” And then the bastard winks, and before Dean can answer, he hears the principal’s voice, announcing his presence. Castiel looks briefly over his shoulder, then smiles at Dean. “I better get going. I like my salary. See you later, Sheriff!”

Dean just nods and follows Cas with his eyes for a moment. He really does look good in those shorts…

 

“Is everything alright?” Balthazar frowns at him, his gaze briefly darting to Castiel.

It’s hard to concentrate, and it’s hard to fight against the blush, but Dean tries.

“Yeah, sure. So, about the blood?”

 

**.oOo.**

 

A little later, a team for forensic investigation appears, and a few deputies join him on interviewing teachers and students. Since his colleagues can handle it, and Dean really does need a statement from Castiel, he’s okay with leaving the high school. Up to now, they don’t have anything to work with. It’s a bit mysterious, and he’s sure the case will give him a headache eventually.

He’s about to climb into the cruiser when he spots Claire, the babysitter Sam’s hiring sometimes, exiting the building. When she’s closer, he waves at her. “Yo, Claire! You need a ride?”

She looks up at him and shrugs, coming closer. “Sure, why not.” She sounds a bit bored, like always, and opens the door of the passenger side, throwing her bag onto the floor. “Don’t you have anything to do?”

He’s not offended at her phrasing. Claire’s just Claire. “I got plenty to do, thank you. I’m just trying to be nice.” Slowly, he maneuvers the car out of the rapidly emptying parking lot.

Claire scoffs. “So, who’s the murderer?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I won’t tell you anything.” He’s sure that Claire already knows why he’s been at the school. By now, everyone at school probably knows that something happened.

“You’re no fun. The rumor is that it was the new substitute teacher. Castiel,” she says, and it takes every ounce of concentration for Dean to not hit the brakes. “But I don’t think so. He’s nice. He’s a cool teacher.” And _that_ means something, coming from Claire. She never praises teachers.

As much as Dean would love to get more info about Cas out of Claire, he doesn’t do so. If he wants to get to know Cas better, then he should ask the man himself. It’s common courtesy.

“How’s school?” he changes the topic in order to distract her, and now it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“Stupid as always.”

“No boy toy?”

Claire hides her face behind her hand. “Deaaan.”

“What?! I remember what I was interested in when I was in High School.”

“In boys?” she counters and raises an eyebrow at him.

He grins and shrugs. “Not yet. But later.” He wriggles his eyebrows and sees Claire’s going wide. But she doesn’t comment, and he takes it as a good sign. Dean doesn’t hide his preferences, but he also doesn’t go around telling everyone. So some people know he’s also into men, some doesn’t.

And now, Claire knows, but he has the feeling that she’s cool with it.

 

After Claire’s delivered home safely, he drives the short way to Castiel’s house. He’s fifteen minutes late, but he texted Cas before he left school. It’s difficult not to be eager about their meeting. He’s having an internal debate whether he should stay professional and get things back to appropriate, but maybe it’s too late for that?

Anyhow, Dean’s treading on thin ice here. As a sheriff, he can’t just make out with a witness, especially not several times _._ Dean has a reputation to maintain—he can’t lose that. He can’t be the one who fucks witnesses and suspects and whatnot. Rumors would spread fast, and it would probably get even nastier for Castiel.

 

When Dean rings the bell at Castiel’s house, he’s worked himself up to a decision. He won’t touch Cas. He won’t have inappropriate thoughts. And most of all, he won’t drag him into the bedroom to have sex with him. Nope, not gonna happen.

He can hear Bee barking inside the house, which makes him swallow. Fuck, he doesn’t like dogs. It’s a cliché, but ever since he got bitten as a teenager, he’s afraid of them. He knows that Bee probably wouldn’t harm him, but he can’t relax. Rationality doesn’t help here.

The door opens and Dean’s decision and confidence in _not touching Cas_ fly right out of the window.

 

 

“Cas…” he breathes and stares at miles of tanned skin. Cas must’ve showered some minutes ago, since he’s only wearing a towel around his hips, his hair is still damp, and water clings to his skin. “Fuck.”

Castiel smirks. “Hello to you, too. I’ve been waiting for you.”

And with that, Dean’s yanked inside, the door shut behind him. Castiel crowds him immediately against the door. “I fingered myself open in the shower for you, thinking about you” he whispers right against Dean’s lips. “Would you like to check if I did it properly, Sheriff?”

Dean’s eyes widen with every word. “Jesus, Cas…” His dick twitches with vigorous interest _._

And he can’t help himself; after a moment pretending to think, he pulls the towel from Cas’ hips instead of answering and admires the sharp jut of his hip bones, before he takes Cas’ wrist and drags him towards the bedroom. “I’ll check on everything you want.” His voice already sounds husky in his ears. Castiel chuckles behind him, and when he throws a glance over his shoulder, Cas looks pleased. Smug bastard.

 

Entering the bedroom, Dean puts his duty belt aside, because nobody should mess with it, even if accidentally. Castiel is on him then, closing the door as they hear the dog coming closer. Quickly, Dean loses his clothes, and in the next moment, he’s flush against Cas’ warm body, hands kneading Dean’s bare ass.

“Feels good,” he murmurs against Castiel’s lips, before he licks his way into that tempting mouth. Dean loves mapping it out, licking over these beautiful, little teeth, teasing Cas’ _very_ talented tongue. And he’s already getting hard just from kissing, because the way Castiel does it is dirty and sinful, and Dean loves that.

When Castiel pulls away, they’re both breathless and panting. Cas smiles and climbs gracefully onto the bed, positioning himself right in the center with his hands braced behind him on the bed. “How would you like me, Dean?”

Dean’s mouth waters as his eyes rake over Cas’ naked body, his gaze lingering on Cas’ tattoos. “On your knees, Cas. I wanna make sure that you prepped yourself properly.”

Castiel hums, clearly pleased with the situation, and he turns around, getting on his hands and knees, his perfect shaped ass stuck out for Dean to admire. It’s crystal clear that Cas trusts him, and Dean will make sure to reward him for that.

He can’t wait any longer; he kneels on the bed right behind Cas, getting his hands on the firm globes, kneading the flesh. Cas groans quietly, his head hanging between his shoulders. Absent-mindedly, Dean nibbles on his lower lip while he lets his fingernails drag over Castiel’s ass cheeks, before he pulls them gently apart. When he leans forward and lets his breath ghost over Cas’ hole, he can hear Cas’ breath catching in his throat. Dean grins smugly, but he can’t resist anymore and slowly drags his tongue over the exposed rim, teasing sensitive nerve endings. The sounds Cas is making from there on are wonderful and Dean doesn’t want Cas to stop making them.

He takes it slow, teasing Cas with languid movements of his tongue, taking his time before breaching his hole. Dean wouldn’t have imagined that it’s actually pretty fun to draw things out, but with Cas, it is, so far.

The best thing about it is when Castiel starts writhing and moaning underneath him. Dean licked him open carefully, reducing him to a desperate mess.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs as he absentmindedly drags his thumb over Cas’ hole. A low moan is the only reaction Dean gets, and he smiles to himself. “Lube? Condom?”

Castiel gestures towards the nightstand, and Dean notices that Cas’ thighs are trembling. Maybe because of the effort to kneel all the time, or because of the anticipation.

With the supplies carefully laid out next to them, Dean strokes soothingly over Cas’ back. “I could do this all day… getting you all worked up…”

Cas slightly turns his head to shoot him an accusing look. “No! No, please. You teased me enough already.” And judging by his hoarse voice, yes, Dean did enough. “Get on with it, please.”

Dean leans forward, draping himself over Cas’ back. “I love it when you beg, Cas…” he whispers into his ear, rocking his hips at the feeling of his dick sliding between Cas’ cheeks.

Castiel only whimpers, his hands fisted in the sheets. The sight elicits a new wave of arousal crashing over Dean, and for a short moment, he’s tempted to just take what he wants, just pushing into the willing body but reality and reason catch up with him fast.

Suddenly, Cas is moving, pushing Dean onto his back. Dean blinks at him in surprise, just watching Cas straddling him. “You’re too slow today, Dean,” Cas rumbles as he busies himself with the condom. “Sometimes I like slow, but not today.” He rolls the condom onto Dean’s rock-hard dick, then stares right into his eyes. “I want to feel you.”

Dean’s mouth goes dry and he simply nods his agreement, because yes, he’d love that, too. Grabbing Cas’ strong thighs, squeezing them, he tries to stay still as Cas sinks down on him after applying more lube. It goes easily, since Castiel did open himself thoroughly beforehand. The tight heat around him is amazing.

Cas lets out a low hum, his eyes shut much to Dean’s disappointment. Only when Dean’s buried deep inside him, he finds his voice again. “Look at me, Cas. Wanna see your gorgeous eyes while you’re riding me.”

Castiel complies, opening his blue eyes gone dark with lust as he starts to move on top of Dean. And it’s awesome; the way Castiel makes him feel. Dean melts into an incoherent puddle, just enjoying the sweet sensations that wash over him. Castiel doesn’t seem to mind anyway. He’s caught in his pleasure as he moves his hips sinfully; his moans getting louder.

It doesn’t take them long to come. Dean’s the first one to give in and it takes him a moment to collect himself, but eventually, he wraps a hand around Cas’ thick length to help him over the edge. The sinful way that Cas is writhing in his lap is pure spank-bank-material, and Dean files it away carefully for future reference.

 

They’re both a mess; sticky from sweat, tired, but sated.

And again, Dean finds himself at a loss as to how to proceed from here. Although he’d like to stay for a bit, enjoying the post-orgasmic bliss, he can’t do that since he’s still on duty. It’s highly inappropriate that he stopped at Cas’ place just to have sex. Again. Fuck. It would’ve been smarter to just stay at the High School and take Cas’ statement there. No way he’ll ask for it now, after they just had sex.

 

Once more, Castiel seems to feel him tense. He lifts his head from Dean’s neck and his sparkling blue eyes bore right into Dean’s. It’s a bit unsettling, but Dean isn’t able to look away.

“We should fuck again, someday.”

Dean’s eyes go wide. “Jeez, Cas. You’re a romantic, huh?”

Cas shoots him a lopsided smile. “You don’t need to hide behind irony. You can say it: I’m a blunt dick.”

Dean huffs a laugh, feeling something twist in his chest that makes him a little uncomfortable.

 

They don’t talk much after that. They get up, clean themselves up and get dressed again.

“I have to go back to the station,” Dean says, and it’s not a total lie.

“What about my statement?” Cas asks him as they reach the front door of the house.

“Uh, I think one of my deputies will contact you in the next days, probably at the school. There are a lot of statements that we have to take.”

“Oh, okay…” Castiel just nods and stares at him, maybe expecting _something,_ and Dean briefly thinks about wanting to take Cas on a date, but… But Cas just wants to fuck, right? He stated that earlier in a _beautiful_ way.

Dean slumps slightly and forces a smile onto his face. Fuck, he had amazing sex just a few minutes ago; so why doesn’t he feel like the luckiest guy on earth? “See you, Castiel.”

Cas waves his hand and shuts the door; the sound echoing through Dean’s body in an almost painful way. Once more he leaves Cas’ place with a weird feeling in his stomach.

When he turns around to leave the property, something on the ground right next to the door catches his eye. Frowning, he stares down at the small, rectangular box wrapped in gift paper. Huh. Seems like there’s still someone out there trying to win Castiel’s heart.

Dean swallows and abruptly turns around. This whole thing is messed up already. He should stay away from Cas, before they end up in bed again, and everyone notices he screws the new substitute teacher _just for fun._ He fucking hates gossip.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember the tags for stalking and mentions of suicide attempts!

“The last time I saw Meg was around noon. We spent the lunch break together,” Leslie Collins tells him as she wraps a strand of curly blond hair around her finger. She teaches history and English at Lincoln High. Dean nods and writes down the information, listening intently. “She seemed to be fine. There was nothing out of the ordinary…”

“When and where did you part ways?” Dean asks and looks up into her worried, brown eyes. “Uh… That must have been around 1 p.m. when I left the teachers’ room. She stayed here.” The door opens behind them, and Ms. Collins looks past Dean. “Oh, hey, Mr. Novak.” Dean swallows at the name and keeps his gaze trained on Ms. Collins who looks at him again. “You should ask him about Meg. He entered the room right after I left. So maybe he’s the one who saw her last.” Dean narrows his eyes. He can’t tell if her tone is accusing or if it’s neutral. Does she want to get Castiel into trouble?

“Okay. Thanks, Ms. Collins,” he sighs while he closes the notepad. “We’re done here.”

She nods and stands, gathering her bag to leave the room.

Dean turns around in his chair and sees Castiel standing in the middle of the room, frowning at him.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean tries to smile at him, knowing he’s failing, and stands to walk over to him. “Hey, Cas.”

“What was Ms. Collins talking about?” He seems confused. “I already made my statement this morning.”

“Yes, uhm… There’s something else that happened. I’m not here because of the blood on the sports field. It’s about Meg Masters.” It’s the sports teacher Cas talked about yesterday. “She’s reported missing.”

Castiel’s eyes widen. “Wh-what? She’s _missing_?”

Dean immediately senses that it’s affecting Cas more than the other teacher, so he gently takes his elbow. “Come, let’s sit.”

“What happened?” Cas whispers and stares at Dean as if he doesn’t understand what all of this means. “I thought Meg’s just sick for a couple of days…”

Dean shakes his head as they both take seats at one of the tables. “No, unfortunately not. Nobody has seen her since Monday. She never contacted the school and told them why she wasn’t coming yesterday. And this morning, we got a call from her family. She never came home on Monday.”

Cas exhales slowly, his eyes downcast. “Oh… I, uh… I think it was late afternoon when I saw her last. I wanted to go home and she was still on the sports field. I said goodbye to her because, well… As I already said yesterday, she’s the only one around here who’s not judging me. I like her…” He bites his lip and Dean tracks the movement with his eyes, even if it’s totally inappropriate given the topic they discuss.

“Was there something that caught your attention? Did she seem upset? Or when you left, did you see someone?”

Castiel takes a few seconds to think about it, and then shakes his head. “No, everything was normal, as far as I can tell. The only persons I saw when I left were some students.” He looks at Dean. “But I don’t know them. They haven’t been in my classes yet.”

“Okay, I’ll figure it out.” Dean takes notes and rubs a hand over his chin, before he asks some more questions. But Castiel doesn’t know much, and Dean understands that. Cas is still fairly new around here.

“Dean…” The look Castiel gives him at the end of the questioning is vulnerable. “Tell me she’s okay.”

Dean nervously licks his lips and tries to smile, but he fails, again. “I can’t promise you that, Cas. But we do everything we can to find Meg.”

Castiel swallows and nods. “Are we done here? I have to go to the class room soon.”

“Yes, go ahead. Thanks for your time.”

They stand and make their way to the door. There’s a strange tension between them. “Will you head back to the station now?”

Dean shakes his head as they walk down the hallway. “No, I’ll try to find those students you talked about.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

 

Before Dean can make it out of the building, a male teacher rounds the corner and spots them. “Hey Castiel!” He offers a smile as all three of them stop. “Sheriff.” Dean nods at him. He vaguely remembers that face, but he can’t come up with a name.

“Hello, Frank,” Castiel greets the man, his shoulders tensing. It seems like he doesn’t particularly like this Frank guy.

“You sly dog! Why haven’t you just told me about your wife? Or is it your girlfriend?” Frank grins, but Cas frowns, and so does Dean. What? “I completely understand that you wanted to spend some alone time with her instead of hanging out with me and some cheap beer. You could’ve just told me that you prefer her over me.” Frank laughs. “Instead Castiel here told me he’d rather finish his painting in piece. Painting.”

“Well, he’s an art teacher after all,” Dean mumbles, but he can’t get the words _wife_ and _girlfriend_ out of his head.

“Frank, I _did_ finish my painting. I love painting in the evening. And I don’t even like beer…” Cas says with a voice that makes clear that he doesn’t care what Frank thinks. “But why do you think I have a girlfriend? I live alone, you should know that.” Cas looks at Dean. “We’re living in the same neighborhood.”

Frank raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “Oh. Well… I mean, I saw that lovely girl at your front door recently, and I figured she was yours.”

Dean can hear Castiel drawing a sharp breath and he stares at him questioningly.

“Did you talk to her?” Castiel’s voice suddenly sounds strained.

“No, no. I was walking my dog and I saw her from afar. I think she held a gift in her hands. I’m not rude, so I just, you know…passed by. Didn’t wanna disturb.”

Castiel swallows. “She had red hair, right?”

Frank beams. “Yes, exactly! So you know her. She seems sweet.”

Silence follows as Cas just stares at Frank, then he takes a deep breath and grabs Dean’s sleeve, still looking at the other teacher. “Did she see you?”

“I don’t know. She had her back to me when I walked by and I think she put that gift of hers right at your front door. But you know, I’m not as nosy as the others.” Frank tilts his head. “Are you okay?”

Cas nods way too fast. “Sure. Thanks, Frank. I gotta go. Class.” His voice is high-pitched and he drags Dean with him.

“Cas?” Dean’s worried now. And jealous. _Fuck_. But mostly worried. “What’s going on?”

“We need to talk,” Cas chokes out, and his voice makes Dean even more concerned. What the hell?

“Cas, stop…” But Castiel ignores him, tugging Dean along the hallways.

At the entrance of the school building, Cas finally stops and turns around to look at him. His eyes are haunted. “Your car. You’re here with your cruiser, right?” When Dean nods, still surprised, Cas drags him outside. “Lead the way. We can talk there. We _need to talk._ ”

Okay, Castiel is having a minor freak-out. Dean wants to help him, and for that, he needs to stay calm. He gently tugs Cas to the cruiser and opens the passenger door for him. He waits until Cas is seated, closes the door and makes his way to the driver door.

“Take a deep breath, Cas,” he says as soon as the door is closed. He rummages for a water bottle, hoping it’s not stale yet, and hands it to Castiel, who takes a mouthful of water.

“Thanks…” Cas sighs, staring at the bottle in his hands, and Dean slowly extends a hand to stroke his arm in a soothing manner. “I think… I need to talk to you as Sheriff…”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Oh. Okay.  Whatever you need. But I’m here as your friend, too, okay?” He gulps and withdraws his hand. “You got me really worried. What is it?” There’s silence. Castiel doesn’t answer right away, and when he looks up, his eyes are glistening, much to Dean’s surprise. His heart clenches. “Cas?”

“It’s, uh, it’s…” Castiel closes his mouth and drags a hand over his face. “Shit, I shouldn’t… I better talk to my brother.” His hand reaches for the door, but Dean stops him.

“No! Cas, wait. Please tell me what happened back there. I’m worried about you. Maybe I can help.” He shoots him a small smile. “I’m a sheriff, remember? You can trust me.”

Castiel swallows audibly, his hand falling back into his lap. “It’s complicated, Dean.” His voice is thick, probably from his unshed tears that are still gathering in his eyes. “I never wanted to talk about it again…” He scrubs both hands over his face and takes a deep breath. “Those gifts… Do you remember me mentioning them?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I saw those flowers the night we, uh…talked about the cat.” _The night they had sex for the first time_. “And you got other gifts, as well, right?”

Cas nods. “Yes…every day I received something. I thought… I hoped it was nothing serious, maybe just a girl from school, although I knew, deep down, it couldn’t be that easy.”

To Dean’s horror, Castiel suddenly starts to cry, burying his face in his hands, sobbing. “Oh, Cas…” He puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder, letting him know that Dean wants to comfort him with touch. Cas doesn’t react which Dean takes as a good sign. He leans in closer and takes Cas into a one-armed hug. It’s not exactly comfortable doing it in this car, but they manage. He tries to soothe Cas and waits until he’s calmed down enough to talk.

 

“I’m sorry,” Cas mumbles while Dean searches for tissues in the glove compartment.

“It’s okay. Here, take these.”

Cas gratefully takes a tissue and blows his nose. He sniffles and much to Dean’s surprise, he snuggles back into Dean’s side.

 

“I used to be an author, back in Boston. At first, it was just a hobby, and I earned my money with teaching. But after some years, I became successful and known all over the country.”

“I never heard of you,” Dean says, curious. “What are your books named?”

Cas snorts. “I wrote under a pseudonym, Dean.” He doesn’t provide the name, though, and Dean accepts it. He gets it. Castiel will him more when he’s comfortable with it. “I loved writing, but I also loved teaching. So I did both, and I was happy. I also dated a colleague, April. She was nice, and I knew that I couldn’t hide the other side of me for long. I tried, though, because I’m very fond of my privacy.” He sighs. “One of my brothers is a lawyer, Michael.”

“The only one who doesn’t live here.”

“Yes. Because of him, I know what can happen to people who are the focus of public attention. The life he lives isn’t easy. It can get nasty, and I didn’t want that for my own life. So I chose to use a pseudonym, and I wanted to hide it from April as long as I felt the need to. Maybe until I was sure that we were a serious thing. I needed to be sure. But…she found out after only two months into our relationship.” Dean thinks he can imagine what happened next, but he’s wrong. “She promised me not to tell anyone. She said she respected my choices and I believed her, of course. She never gave me a reason not to trust her. Everything was fine until she started asking me about the new story. I kind of understood her curiosity, but I refused to let her read the manuscript. She kept asking for it though, and I got irritated, because she didn’t understand why I didn’t trust her with that. We argued a lot from there on, and I started to see that there wasn’t a future for us.” Dean can feel Cas slump in his embrace. “I, uh…didn’t leave her immediately, though. I hated being alone… I know it’s pathetic, and no one should do this, but I stayed with her, just because I was afraid of being alone again.”

_Oh._

“But just a few weeks later, my publisher discovered parts of my manuscript online, up for sale. It didn’t take long for me to figure out it had been April. She had access to my laptop…”

“Fuck…” Dean breathes and tightens his grip on Cas’ shoulder. He wishes he could hug him properly.

“Yeah, well, it was my own fault after all. My laptop wasn’t protected properly. It wasn’t hard to figure out the password.”

“So, she made money with your unpublished files?”

Cas nods against Dean’s shoulder. “Yes. As you can imagine, I was furious. I cornered her with the information, and I yelled at her, and I didn’t care what she thought or what she had to say. I wanted to leave her anyway. There wasn’t a thing that could have been more devastating for me. April going behind my back, using me like this… I truly had enough.”

“I hope you sued the crap outta her.” Cas stays silent for a few seconds, tensing. It’s enough of an answer. “Why not?” Dean can’t prevent his voice from sounding incredulous.

“She blackmailed me.”

Dean’s eyes are about to pop out of his head. “What?”

Cas burrows deeper into his side. “She threatened to expose me, spreading my real name. She knew I hated the idea. But I tried to stick to my guns. I refused to give in, and I started to pack my things.”

“You lived together already?”

Cas sighs. “Unfortunately, yes. She’d persuaded me early to move in with her. When I threw my clothes in my bag though, she freaked out. She started to cry, and she apologized…” He clears his throat. “But still, I refused to give in and then, she, uh… She had that small kitchen knife in her hand.” Dean freezes, focuses on breathing. Cas is here, he’s fine, but still… Did she hurt him?

“She threatened to kill herself if I left, and… And that was it. She had me.” Cas’ voice is quiet and small. “I didn’t want something happen to her, so I stayed.”

“Oh, Cas…” Dean’s not able to add anything more to that. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would have done if he were Cas.

“I tried to give her what she wanted. Me. My story. Whatever.” He shrugs, his voice sounding dull. “But of course, she could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t easy for me to be around her. Although I couldn’t bear the thought that she did something to herself, I…loathed her. I barely talked to her, I refused to touch her or let her touch me. She grew unhappy, and when I didn’t give her new parts to read, she grew mad.” Cas huffs a sad laugh. “She didn’t believe me when I told her that I had writer’s block. But it was true. Staying with her killed my creativity. I didn’t want to write, and I couldn’t. So I stopped. It just happened. April, though, thought I withheld the manuscript and we had a fight, _again._ A few days later, I found her in the bathroom, blood everywhere,” Cas whispers, his breath hitching. He stops to talk for a long moment, and Dean exhales slowly, trying to process Cas’ story. It sounds like a psychological thriller…

 

Eventually, Castiel clears his throat and resumes talking, playing with the bottle of water in his hand. “I called the ambulance and she survived the suicide attempt. But I figured it was enough. While I waited in the hospital to be able to see her, I told my brothers on the phone what happened. One of them came to see me, since he didn’t live far away. Michael.”

“The lawyer?”

Cas nods. “Yes. He gave me a very good advice, although at that time, I thought he exaggerated, but now I know he was right.” Castiel withdraws, sitting straight up and Dean immediately misses his warmth. His heart twists in his chest when he sees Cas’ red-rimmed eyes. “Michael was aware that I didn’t want to sue April. Firstly, my privacy was too precious to me, and secondly, she had already enough on her plate. I knew she’d have to go into therapy after what she’d done. I just wanted to say goodbye. Move out of her house. End the relationship. So I visited her in her room, and talked to her. But it didn’t go as I imagined.” Castiel shoots him a pained look. “I knew something was wrong with her, but in the hospital, she behaved like she was crazy. And maybe that’s what she is.” Cas sounds exhausted. “She threatened me, again. She said she’d find me anywhere, wherever I’d go. That she’d make sure I wouldn’t leave her, ever.” Cas sighs. “This time, though, I didn’t give in. I said goodbye, and I left. But I was scared. I felt like she was always there, never quite leaving. Physically and mentally. And Michael understood, too, that something was very wrong with her. He even considered her dangerous.” Dean reaches out and takes Cas’ hand in his. He can assume the rough direction this story is heading. “Michael helped me to disappear, then, so that she wouldn’t find me if she’d try. I changed my name.” Dean’s eyes grow wide, and Cas smiles at him sheepishly. “I left Boston. I traveled around, using up my money. I lost my contract with the publisher, because I still couldn’t get myself to write. And then, a couple of weeks ago, my brothers persuaded me into moving here. Balthazar’s school needed a substitute teacher, and I, in fact, am a teacher. So I tried going this way.” He slumps back in his seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. “But apparently, it didn’t work.”

“The redhaired woman at your house, the gifts. That’s all April?” Dean says quietly, his heart aching because apparently, the nightmare isn’t over yet for Cas.

“Yes, I think so.” Cas look pale now.

“Shit.”

There are tears again in Cas’ eyes as he turns to look at Dean. “What do I do now, Dean?” Dean squeezes his hand. “I thought I’d slowly get my life back.”

It takes Dean a second to collect himself after everything Cas had just told him. “We’ll find a way, okay? I promise.” And he doesn’t promise lightly. “I won’t let something happen to you, ever again.” Castiel sure has been through enough.

The look Cas shoots him is grateful, but he quickly drops his head. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have…”

“No. Nuh-uh! Don’t. I’ll help you. I care about you.” He looks into Cas’ glistening eyes. “Sheriff or not.”

And then, Cas twists and moves, and suddenly, Dean’s hugged tightly. “Thank you.”

He rubs Cas’ back. “Don’t mention it. I’ll see what I can do for you. I’ll probably get a patrol into your neighborhood until we find her.”

Reluctantly, Cas lets go of him in order to look him in the eyes. “But what do we do if we find her? She won’t just leave, I think…”

“Yeah, it sounds like she’s a stalker,” Dean says. “But there are things we can do. Like I said, I’ll help you. I’ll protect you, okay?” Cas slowly nods. “Good. So, what do you think?” He gathers the last shreds of courage he has. “Want to tell me about your real name on a date?”

Cas eyes go impossibly wide. “What?” he squeaks, and it’s delightful, really, how is usually deep, rumbling voice reaches unknown high levels. “Is that… Do you… Are you asking me out?”

Dean grins, although his heart is beating rapidly because he fears being rejected. “Well, in contrast to you, I am a romantic, Cas. I’m all about the classic wooing, you know.”

Cas smiles sheepishly and lifts a hand to tug at his blue earring. Whoa, is Cas going shy on him now? It’ kind of adorable, if Dean’s being honest.

“I’m also romantic, you know!” Castiel weakly protests, a little smile on his lips. “Yes… I’d like to go on a date with you, Dean.”

Dean feels a weight lifting off his shoulders, and he beams at Cas. He can’t stop it.

Cas suddenly jolts. “Shit! My class!” He moves to get out of the car. “I’ll call you in the evening, okay?”

Dean nods. “Be safe, Cas.” And he’s serious about that. Cas shoots him a knowing look.

“I will be, Dean.” He waves at Dean, before he hurries back inside the High School.

 

Fuck. _Fuck._ Dean punches the steering wheel, then gets out of the car and starts pacing. He doesn’t care if someone sees him. He hasn’t quite processed yet what Cas told him. It’s a clusterfuck for sure. The only thing he knows is that he needs to make sure that Castiel is safe. If this crazy woman really is here, in Dean’s town, he won’t let her touch Cas.

And then he thinks that, maybe, he already saw her. Without knowing who she actually was, and what she did to Cas. Fuck!

Suddenly angry, he gets back in the car. He needs to drive to the station and get someone in on this. Someone he can trust to 100 percent.

Castiel needs their help.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember the tag for violence!

Only two days later, and it’s their date night. Dean’s practically vibrating with nerves all day. He likes Cas beyond his hot body, he already figured that out, thank you very much, and so he’s a bit worried that he’ll fuck it up. They already have some kind of history at this point, and Dean feels like it makes things a bit weird. After all, it’s like they’re going backwards. First, they fucked, then Cas shared his past with him, and now they’re having a date. Isn’t it normally the other way around?

 

He’s just met his brother for lunch and is now driving back to the station. While he’d been happy to see Sam again after a couple of weeks, their meeting had been a little awkward, because Dean was distracted by Castiel, their date—and April.

Dean has four of his best people on the case: Jo and Benny, deputies who’ve worked with him for almost seven years now. They’re his friends as well as deputies, and so is Charlie. He got her on board, too, because she might be able to find out where April is staying. Dean’s sure she’s booked a room in one of the shitty motels around town, so hopefully it can’t be too hard to track her down. The last person he’d asked for support had been Lucas Milton, since he’s one of Cas’ brothers and already knows what’s going on.

Jo and Benny are patrolling the west side of town more often, now. They can’t observe Cas’ house all the time, of course, but Cas has said it’s fine. While he appreciates the deputies looking out for April, and no matter how often Dean tells him that his colleagues are completely cool with it, Cas is still a bit uncomfortable about the attention, as well as the inconvenience.

And Dean doesn’t know what he did to deserve friends like Jo, Benny and Charlie. He knows he has to make it up to them someday, after all of this stupid shit is over. And he hopes it’ll be over soon.

 

He jumps a little as the sound of his phone chirping pulls him out of his thoughts. A quick look to the passenger seat reveals that it’s a text from Sam. Sighing, Dean pulls into a parking spot at the side of the street, people passing by as they stroll along the sidewalk. Dean frowns as he grabs his phone. He talked to Sam just minutes ago, so what could he possibly want now?

 

**> >You didn’t want to talk about what’s bothering you, so maybe you’ll text me the problem. I’m worried.**

**> >Are you mad at me? You know you can always just tell me.**

 

Dean exhales slowly and stares out of the window for a few seconds, thinking about a possible reply. It’s true that he often can’t talk about his thoughts and feelings, and sometimes writing about stuff is easier. But this? Sam doesn’t know about Cas. He doesn’t know anything, and maybe Dean should change that. Castiel isn’t just a random guy he met, and he certainly won’t forget about him.

 

**> >I met someone. But it’s a bit complicated right now. We’re still sorting things out.**

 

For a second, his fingers hover above the keyboard, itching to write more, but it’s not something you discuss via text messages.

 

**> >I can fill you in when we see each other again**

 

Sam’s answer comes quickly.

 

**> >Just tell me when you need to talk. I’ll make sure to have time for you. Are you okay?**

 

Dean frowns down at his phone. Suddenly Sam has time for him? No time on the weekends for lunch with his wife and Dean, but for Dean’s love life he’ll make it happen?

 

**> >I’m fine**

 

He doesn’t add more. He knows it’ll piss Sam off, but right now he can’t help himself, because Dean’s pissed, too. Sam barely has time for him, and that’s bothering him, even though he’s trying to understand. Plus, Dean’s worried about Cas.

With a groan, he throws his phone onto the passenger seat and tries to think about the good things. Today’s gonna be awesome. He has a date with Cas. It’s everything he’s wished for. They’ll meet for dinner because Dean’s a sucker for classics.

His phone is chirping again, but it’s probably Sam bitching at him, and Dean chooses to ignore it for now.

He maneuvers the cruiser back on the road and heads back to the station without incident. There’s still some paperwork waiting for him and, as always, he doesn’t like the prospect of sitting at his desk for the rest of the afternoon. It means that the hours will run slowly, and he just wants the evening to come so that he can meet up with Castiel.

 

When he parks the car in front the of the Sheriff’s Department, he immediately spots Castiel in front of the building. He’s wearing sunglasses, blue cargo shorts and a black t-shirt that show off the floral tattoos on his arm as well as the writing on his neck. Cas looks gorgeous. Like always.

Dean’s heart swells in his chest, a wide smile blossoming on his face, but then he thinks, _Maybe something happened. Why is he here?_

Swallowing, Dean gets out of the car and jogs to Cas, concern showing on his face.

 

“Hey! Are you alright?”

Cas smiles brightly at him, one hand behind his back. “Hello, Sheriff. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Uh-huh...” He can’t stop the smile that creeps back onto his lips, not paying attention to the civilians and deputies trickling in and out of the station. “What can I do for you?”

He watches Cas’ face intently, noticing the slight nervousness in those blue eyes as he pushes the sunglasses up into his carelessly mussed hair. God, how he loves that crazy hair.

“I know I’ll see you tonight, but I couldn’t wait when I saw these on my way to school...” The hand that’s been hidden behind back until now slowly extends and Dean’s presented with a beautiful bouquet of red roses, lined by sunflowers.

Whoa.

If that isn’t the epitome of romantic. And Dean had been thinking Castiel wasn’t. “I had to get them for you. See, I can do chick-flick.”

Dean throws his head back, laughing. “God, yeah, add your own little flavor to it.” With a huge smile on his face, Dean takes the proffered flowers, their sweet scent already invading his nostrils. “They’re beautiful, Cas.” He flashes him a grin. “You trying to bribe me?”

The corner of Cas’ eyes crinkle as he smiles confidently. “No, you’re already going to go out with me.”

“Damn right.” Dean nods, and he feels the sudden urge to kiss Castiel stupid. In front of all the people that are passing by. _Why the fuck not?_

People already saw Cas giving him flowers—there’s no room left for interpretation. And tonight, they’re going to have dinner together in a fancy restaurant. No room left for interpretation there, either.

 

Dean sways into Cas’ space, a bit unsure if Cas will be okay with kissing in public. He stares right into these sparkling blue eyes, and Castiel seems to understand what Dean wants, even without using actual words.

Cas’ eyes widen slightly, then the corner of his mouth quirks up before he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips.

_Fuck, so they’re really doing this._

Letting people know that the Sheriff’s dating is kind of a thing around here. It means something, and Dean’s okay with letting them know. He wants Cas, in every way imaginable. He won’t hide them or their...thing. It’s not a relationship yet, but he hopes it will be someday. It doesn’t bother him that, maybe, some people won’t like the idea of him dating Castiel Novak, of all people. In the best case, people will change their opinion, seeing Cas for who he really is.

Castiel presses another kiss onto his lips, then backs off with a shy smile.

“I know I said it already,” Dean murmurs, “but I really love your mouth, Cas.” Cas’ smile widens and he leans closer, lips ghosting over Dean’s ear. “It’s Jimmy, actually. My real name. Jimmy Milton.” Dean turns his head to look at Cas. “But I like the way you say Cas. Keep calling me that. I’m Cas now.”

Dean nods and wraps his arms around Cas’ shoulders. “Okay. I like your new name,” he whispers into his ear, before he takes a step back with a grin on his face. “I’ll only call you Jimmy every time you’re a bad boy.”

Cas rolls his eyes and slaps his chest with a fond smile. “I’m always a good boy, Sheriff.”

Dean snorts and steals one more kiss. “Thanks for the flowers, Nobody’s ever done something like this for me.”

“Then it’s about time,” Cas replies with a soft smile. “I can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ll pick you up, okay? Just to feed your chick-flick kink.” Dean groans. “Let’s say 6?”

Dean nods with a sigh, then smiles. “You’re too good for me.”

 

Castiel just shakes his head and lifts a hand to cup Dean’s face. “Have a good day, Dean. I have to go back to school.” A thumb traces Dean’s lower lip, making his mouth go dry, then Castiel pushes his sunglasses back on his nose and walks away.

With the bouquet of roses and sunflowers in his hands, Dean’s keeps standing in front of the Sheriff’s department, watching Cas disappearing into the crowd.

Fuck, he’s already head over heels for this guy. He has the feeling that their date’s gonna be great. Dean’s already thinking about introducing Cas to Sam and Eileen. Oof. Yeah, he’s gone on him already.

“Don’t fuck this up,” he mutters under his breath, then looks down onto the flowers in his hands. They make him smile in an instant. Castiel _can be sweet._

 

It doesn’t even bother him that Donna and a few other colleagues tease him about the flowers and the PDA someone witnessed and told them about.

No. Life’s too good right now.

 

**.oOo.**

 

Until it isn’t.

It’s five after 6 p.m. and Cas hasn’t yet arrived to pick him up. Dean’s actually relaxed about this kind of thing. Happens to the best. Sometimes you’re a little late.

But Cas hasn’t even texted him about it, so Dean doesn’t know how much later it’s gonna be. After five more minutes, he’s getting restless and texts Cas. No answer, probably because he’s on the road. Well.

Dean stares into the mirror in the hallway, thinking, once again, about his outfit. He’s being childish, he knows. It’s a casual date, and therefore a nice pair of dark jeans and a button-up shirt that’s actually less than a year should do it. He’ll be fine.

After he’s wasted another minute re-doing his hair, he steps back into the living room and glances at the clock. It’s fifteen minutes after six now. It’s getting annoying, really.

With a sigh, Dean plops onto his couch and takes his phone in his hand. There’s still no answer from Cas, and Dean figures sending him another text won’t help the situation. Instead, he calls. While it’s ringing, Dean taps impatiently with his fingers against his thigh, waiting for Castiel to answer the phone. But he doesn’t.

Groaning, Dean is about to throw the phone back onto the coffee table, when it rings. Dean struggles to keep it in his hand, raising it to his ear after accepting the call.

“Cas?”

“Dean? It’s me, Sam.”

“Oh.” Dean feels himself deflating like a balloon; his shoulders slumping forward. “Hey man.”

“What’s up? You sound stressed. Who’s Cas?”

“Uh… Just waiting for someone to contact me.”

“Cas?” His brother doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yeah.”

“A colleague?”

“No, I… I know him from work, but he’s not a colleague.”

“Okay… Well, I wanted to invite you over. I’m on my way home already. Thought we could talk. Have a beer. Eileen and Jack went to the movies.”

“Uh…” Dean rubs the back of his neck, sneaking a glance at the clock. Twenty minutes after 6. “I actually already had plans, but it looks like I’m getting stood up.”

“This Cas-guy?”

Dean swallows. Sam sounds innocent enough, probably not assuming anything.

“Yeah. We were supposed to meet at 6, but he hasn’t shown up yet and he’s not answering his damn phone.”

“Weird...”

“Yeah…” Dean thinks of April, and now, his annoyance turns to worry. “Tell you what. I’m gonna go check on Cas; see if he’s at home. If not, I’ll come over for that beer you promised, ‘kay?”

“Sure.” It seems like his brother is a bit disappointed, but well, his invitation is on short notice. “Text me when you know if you’ll come.”

“Yeah.”

He ends the call and gets up from the couch, concerned now that something happened. Maybe Cas forgot, but it’s unlikely, since he gave Dean _flowers_ just a few hours ago. And he’d said he was looking forward to their date, so it’s also unlikely that Cas doesn’t want to see him anymore.

But why hasn’t he answered his phone for twenty minutes now? Even if he’d been on his way to Dean, he’d be here by now.

It’s weird, really. And it’s getting kinda scary as he thinks of April. It’s probably just a stupid coincidence, Dean muses, but still. Something doesn’t sit right with him.

On a whim, he calls Jo. He’s never checked in with her about Castiel, but right now it feels like a good thing to do, even though he’s off duty.

“Hey Boss. What’s up?”

“Hi, Jo. Are you near Cas’ house?”

“We were there about half an hour ago. Seemed like hadn’t been home. Everything was dark.”

“…okay.” Maybe he’s had an accident on the road?

“Did you see his car?”

“Yeah, it was parked in the garage. Dean, is everything alright?” Now, Jo starts to sound concerned.

“I guess so. Don’t worry. Just wanted to check in. Thanks, Jo!” Sure, he could explain why he has a bad feeling about all of this, but the last thing he wants to do right now is telling Jo, and therefore also Benny, that he has a date with Cas. It’s still something new and vulnerable, and he wants to wait a little longer until he tells his family and friends about Cas.

He doesn’t wait for her to say goodbye and just ends the call, before he grabs his keys, his wallet, and, after short hesitation, also his private gun: a Glock 17 that he’s never used. He hopes that today won’t change his statistics.

“Just in case…” he mutters to himself before he leaves the house. Since the car is still parked at Cas’ place, Dean’s a little worried now. Apparently, Cas isn’t on his way to pick Dean up with his Mustang. He doesn’t even seem to be at home, so where is he then?

Nevertheless, Dean decides to swing by his place, because it could be that Cas is back home by now.

 

The drive is uneventful, and Dean feels like these fifteen minutes are the longest of his life. His phone stays silent. Nobody calls or texts—Cas still doesn’t contact him.

When he pulls up on the sidewalk across from Cas’ place, he knows that chances are very low that the neighbors don’t hear his car arriving. The Impala isn’t exactly quiet, but Dean loves her anyway. Her rumble is the most pleasant sound he’s ever heard, if you ask him.

He kills the engine and squints at the yellow house that’s mostly covered in shadows due to the evening hour. All lights are out in there, just as Jo said. Nobody’s home.

Sighing to himself, Dean contemplates searching for Castiel. They had a date, after all, and with no notice, Castiel simply didn’t appear. Now he’s not answering his phone and he’s nowhere to be found.

Just as he averts his gaze from the house, he notices something—or someone—moving inside at the window, but when he turns to look closer at it, the shadow is gone already.

Oookay. Maybe it’s nothing, but he’s had enough. Something is going on, and he’s gonna go fucking investigate! Since he’s about to go in there with his fucking gun, he has the decency to call Jo, again. Maybe some backup would be wise, even though it’s probably nothing.

But this time, she doesn’t answer right away, so he tries Benny. But again, nobody picks up. Well, they’re on duty after all. They’ve probably got better things to do.

With a sigh, Dean climbs out of the car with his gun tucked into the waistband at the back of his jeans.

 

He doesn’t see anybody walking down the street; it’s a pretty quiet evening. Only one car has passed since he arrived here five minutes ago.

Taking a deep breath, his mind reeling, Dean slowly walks up to the property and pushes the gate open. He doesn’t spot any movement behind the windows now. Maybe it had just been his imagination, just a shadow he’d thought had been moving.

Still, he feels uneasy when he comes to a halt in front of the door. The only thing he can hear is the wood of the porch creaking under his boots, and when he knocks forcefully on the door, the sound reverberates loudly in his ears. “Cas? You there?”

Dean’s met with more silence, and his heart drops. This isn’t going to be easy. Instead of waiting any longer, he tries the door knob, and sure enough, it’s not locked. Fuck. _It’s not locked_. Fuck, because Cas doesn’t seem to be home—he probably wouldn’t forget to lock his house. Especially not with his crazy ex-girlfriend around.

Thankfully, the door swings open without any squeaking as Dean pulls his gun out, pointing it into the dimness of the hallway. It would hurt him to scare Cas with a gun if he’s here, but Dean’s sure he’ll be forgiven. If nobody’s inside the house, then there’s also nobody who would be bothered. And if there’s someone here who’s not Cas—then it’s better to have a gun at hand.

Slowly and carefully, Dean makes his way through the hallway, peeking into the kitchen empty. The fridge is humming and there’s a clock ticking somewhere, but other than that, it’s quiet. Dean turns around and inspects the bathroom, his fingers gripping the gun tightly. The bathroom is empty, too, so Dean slowly approaches the spacious living room which is dimly lit by the street lights.

 

When he peeks around the corner, he almost drops his gun. Although he manages to keep on holding it, his hands are shaking as he takes in the scene in front of him.

There’s Cas, sitting on a chair, his eyes wide open, hair an utter mess, his mouth gagged with something, hands tied behind the chair. He doesn’t make any sound, and Dean briefly wonders why, but then he focuses on the more important thing right now: securing the area.

But still, he’s kinda distracted. He hates seeing Cas like this and he just wants to get him untied, and out of here. He wants him to be safe, but someone was here—or maybe still is here.

Still quiet and careful, Dean takes a couple of steps into the living room, checking out the corners. He doesn’t see anyone except Cas, and the door a few feet behind Cas is closed, so Dean takes the risk. He has to help Castiel out of this, _now._

With a quick motion, Dean shoves the gun back into the waistband of the back of his pants as he quickly approaches Cas, standing behind him. He can’t make out what Cas is tied to the chair with, but even if it’s handcuffs, Dean swears he’ll get Cas out of here in one piece—even if he has to drag him out of here still sitting on that chair.

While he reaches out for Cas’ arms, he briefly wonders about Bee—maybe the dog is with someone else again, one of Castiel’s brothers?

Touching one arm, trying to figure out how to get Cas free, he catches the man shaking his head slightly, hearing the short, rapid breaths. Dean knows then that they’re in danger, and that he shouldn’t have let his guard down. But seeing _his Cas_ in this situation, it’s too much even for Dean. It’s the first time that someone he’s dating and who he’d already sex with is in danger, so he doesn’t follow any sort of protocol. He simply wants to get Cas out of here.

It’s too late, though.

 

A sharp, searing pain explodes above his right shoulder blade and at the same time, he feels his gun disappearing from the back of his jeans—someone’s taking it away. Someone right behind him.

Dean gasps, the pain spreading into his arm, his back, his neck, but before he can collect himself, the person behind him pull out whatever it is in his shoulder, then pushes him sideways forcefully, away from Cas. Distracted by the pain and surprised by the situation, Dean stumbles, dropping to the floor in the process as he’s unable to keep the balance.

“Let’s see, who do we have here?” A female voice. It has to be April.

Dean groans as a foot connects with his side and he’s forced onto his back, pressing a hand at his shoulder, but he can’t reach the wound to stop it from bleeding at least somewhat. A quiet whimper somewhere next to him has him opening his eyes. Cas still stares at him wide-eyed, his voice muffled by the fabric stuffed into his mouth. Next to him, and in front of Dean, stands a woman, her hair tied back into a braid. Even in the semi-darkness of the room Dean can make out the color of her hair: it’s red.

His heart pounds fast in his chest, the fear that that Cas is hurt—or going to be hurt—rivaling the pain in his shoulder. As he stares at April, he notices she’s got a knife in one hand—probably that’s what she stabbed Dean with—and in the other hand she’s holding a gun. Dean’s Glock, as it is missing from the back of his jeans.

 

“The sheriff himself.” April sneers as she looks down at Dean. Fuck, she already knows who he is.

Dean takes a deep breath and looks at Castiel. “Cas, are you hurt?”

Castiel is quick to shake his head, and Dean believes him. Okay, that’s something good at least. Cas tries to say something, but it’s muffled.

April rolls her eyes and steps in front of Cas, blocking Dean’s view. “Keep the volume down, Jimmy. I am the one with the weapons here and as you saw, I don’t hesitate to use them.” Her voice is cold, so cold, and Cas’ birth name rolling off of her tongue is…weird. It feels wrong. Dean’s heart starts to sink, but he’s not the type to give up. He’ll get Cas out of here somehow. Even though he’s injured. He’ll manage.

April steps back, tossing something to the floor, and at the same time Cas gasps, then takes a deep breath. “Dean! You’re hurt, how bad is it?”

“He’ll live, Jimmy. Calm down,” April answers for him, playing with the knife one-handed, while holding the gun. What are the chances that she doesn’t know that the safety is still on? Does she know how to release it?

 

Dean’s breath is slow and heavy, the pain in his shoulder taking a lot of his strength, but he tries to stay focused on Cas and April.

Castiel stares up at his ex. “What have you done? You can’t just…go around attacking people!”

But April is unfazed by his words. “In case you didn’t notice, he tried to take you away from me. But I promised you, Jimmy-boy: we’ll be together until the end.” This sounds like a threat and Dean doesn’t want to imagine what the _end_ might be.

“You don’t care about me! You care about the author I was, about the money, the attention, or whatever other glorious things you thought I’d give you.”

“Now that is not true,” April says simply and holds up her hand with the knife, blood trickling down its silvery blade. “But let’s talk about your sheriff, first.” Her voice is laced with disgust as she turns to Dean, looking down on him. “I saw you meddling more than once. And I hate people who interfere with my and Jimmy’s life.”

“We live separate lives, April,” Cas interjects, and the look in her eyes sends something cold down Dean’s spine.

“Shut up, Jimmy! You don’t get to say anything!” She takes a step closer to Dean, almost towering over him. “Do you know what happens to those that try to get between me and Jimmy?” Instead of answering, Dean only grits his teeth. It seems like April doesn’t expect him to answer, anyway. “They are taken care of. I make them get out of my way.”

“And I don’t think you do that by just asking nicely,” Dean says and April nods curtly, grinning.

“That’s right. The teacher you’re looking for? Guess what happened to her?” Dean’s breath stutters as April leans closer to him. “Me.”

Dean’s eyes widen as she takes a step back and he can hear Castiel’s breath coming faster. “Meg?! You…? What have you done to Meg? Where is she?” Cas’ voice is loud, desperate, high-pitched. Dean can almost feel how the news hurts Castiel. It makes him think of his promise to Cas, and how he failed him. He failed to protect Cas from any harm.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” April’s smile that she directs at Cas almost seems pleased. “I won’t tell any of you. She got what she deserved. The sheriff will get what he deserves. And you, Jim, will get what you deserve, too.”

Cas strains against his bonds, his upper body leaning forward. “Stay away from Dean! You have done enough already.”

April snorts and angles her body towards Cas, getting into another stupid discussion. That’s what Dean kinda waited for. An opportunity. Inch by inch, he scoots behind April, so that she can’t see him. Just as he wants to push himself off the floor, he sees Cas’ eyes briefly flicking to him—and of fucking course, April notices it.

She turns around, pointing the gun at Dean and in the silence, the click of the Glock’s safety is loud. Dean freezes automatically; April doesn’t even need to say anything. For a few seconds, she just stares at him, and also Cas doesn’t dare to open his mouth while Dean thinks, _that’s it._

“Back off.” April gestures towards the door of the room. “I don’t want you trying to jump me. Back off a bit.” Glaring at her, Dean slowly scoots backwards, still on the floor and pain flaring in his shoulder. “Oh, one more thing. If you try and run away, Jimmy-boy here will suffer instead of you.”

“Dean…” Cas begins, but April spins towards him, and in the next second, an ugly sound echoes through the otherwise quiet room. Dean blinks at Cas who groans, his head lolling between his shoulders.

Dean feels his blood boiling. This fucking bitch just knocked Cas out with the base of Dean’s Glock. “Stop it!” Dean yells at her. “Stop hurting him!”

“Tone it down,” she hisses at him.

“What do you want?! Why are you even here?” he says, trying not to shout at her. “I thought you…loved him, or whatever. But you tied Cas to a fucking chair and knocked him out. What kind of crazy person are you?” He doesn’t get it. Why is she hurting the man she loves?

April snorts as she puts the knife behind her on a low, small table. “I wasn’t finished with Jimmy. I have to set things right.” She looks at Dean. “He left me in my darkest moments. We were a couple; he was supposed to support me. To be at my side. But he left me. Who does that to their girlfriend?” She shakes her head and points the gun at Dean again, ignoring the soft whimpers beside her that indicate Cas coming back to consciousness.

Dean briefly looks at Cas, seeing that he slowly blinks his eyes open. But they fall closed again and again. Shit.

He frowns at April, mind spinning with ideas how to get out of this situation. “He left you for good reason. You fucking blackmailed him! He told me everything. It was your own fault.”

April rolls her eyes. “I’m not discussing this with you, _Sheriff._ I’ll take what’s mine and get out of here. Maybe Jimmy takes me up on this chance I’m giving him, maybe not. But then it won’t end well for him.”

Dean tenses. “And you think I’ll just let you go?! I won’t let you kidnap him!” Just how crazy is this woman?!

“You won’t?” April puts the gun on the table and picks the knife, instead. Oh. “Consider yourself lucky that it’s just your shoulder that I stabbed. I don’t care that you’re the sheriff, really,” she says as she comes closer. “I’d actually love to cut your balls off if had more time. You’re screwing witnesses, such as Jimmy. Very professional. Yes, I know. Wasn’t hard to notice.” She glares at him. “He’s probably not the only one.” He fucking is, but Dean knows she won’t believe him. “I hate Jimmy for cheating on me like that. But I’m willing to give him another chance.”

Dean stares at her, confused. “Cheating? You think Cas cheated on you? With me?” She just nods and he has to suppress a laugh. “You aren’t a couple anymore! Remember? Cas left you!”

She rolls her eyes. “He turned his back on me, but I never agreed to a break-up.”

“You are not married! There’s no need for you to agree to anything! You just need to suck it up!”

As he expected, April lurches towards him with the knife held high, but Dean’s prepared. He pushes off the ground, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder. He overestimated himself, though.

April clamps her free hand down on his injured shoulder, distracting him effectively while she tries to drive the blade into his other shoulder. That, at least, he can prevent by gripping her wrist, hard. So hard that she whines, letting the knife fall eventually. Still, he doesn’t get the upper hand because April’s knee connects with his groin, making him hunch forward as the pain spreads through his body. She shoves him against the wall next to the door, then quickly bends down to take the knife.

This time though, she steps back to Cas instead of attacking Dean again. She grabs the gun and points it at Dean. “On the floor. Now, Sheriff!” To his horror, she aims the Glock at the half-awake Castiel, then. “Or I’ll hurt him. Do you want that?”

Dean swallows around the lump in his throat and slowly sits back on the floor. “Would you really hurt Castiel? The man you love?”

She laughs, the sound hollow in Dean’s ears. “I’m not sure I love Jimmy anymore. I feel something for him, yes. But love? After what he’s done?” She sighs. “And what kind of name is that even? Cas-tee-elle?” She sneers. “Jimmy has the weirdest ideas.”

With the gun at Cas’ head, she stands behind him, fumbling for a few seconds. Dean assumes that April is untying him. “What will you do now?”

“I’ll go. With Jimmy.”

“And then?” What the hell?!

“I’ll try to get my life back. Sort things out with him.”

“You think that’ll work after you hit him in the face?”

April glares at him. “Shut the fuck up, you bastard, and don’t move, or Jimmy here gets another injury. One that won’t heal so easy.” Her voice is so cold, as if it doesn’t bother her at all to hurt Cas again.

Dean can’t believe that Castiel had the misfortune of being with her. “Don’t hurt him, please,” he hears himself say, frozen into place. His hands itch to save Cas, but he knows that one wrong move could kill the man that he’s come to like so much. _So_ much.

“Then don’t move. Stay right there on the ground”, April says, shaking Cas awake. “Get up now.”

She hauls Cas onto his feet, gun pressed into his back. Dean’s heart aches as he watches them slowly stumbling towards the door next to him. Cas’ gaze meets his, the look in his eyes expressing so many emotions. There’s fear, regret, and guilt, but also some kind of warmth, Dean thinks. But there’s almost no light in the room, so maybe he’s imagining it. Dean feels like he already misses Cas. He feels like he’s losing him right this minute.

_“I’ll come after you,”_ he mouths to Cas, hoping he understands. Cas hesitates a second, passing him, then shakes his head slightly, his eyes glistening.

Dean only turns his head as they walk to the front door, April shoving Cas outside. It’s quiet. The only thing Dean wants to do is go after them, get Cas out of her grip But April turns for a second, glaring at him and giving him a good view of the gun pressed to Cas’ back.

Yeah, no.

_Shit._

Dean grits his teeth as he feels his shoulder throbbing with pain. He can’t just let them go, can he?! But what else should he do? He can’t endanger Cas’ life even more. It already hangs by a thread.

His heart thunders in his chest, sweat pools at the small of his back. He feels desperate. Powerless. There’s nobody around who could possibly save Cas right now. April might hurt him if she would see a deputy. _Shit shit shit._

 

Dean hears April’s voice, giving short orders, then a car door slams shut. It’s probably the Ford right in front of the house. When Dean arrived, he didn’t pay much attention to it.

When another door opens and then closes, Dean slowly gets on his feet, gripping his shoulder automatically. There’s this urge to run outside, but he waits. He’ll fucking wait for the damn car to drive away because if April spots him, she might kill Cas or something. Dean can’t risk that. He closes his eyes while his heart clenches painfully in his chest. He’ll fucking get Cas back. That bitch won’t win.

But despite the promise he makes to himself, it hurts to let Cas go with her. It hurts so much. For a moment, he thinks of what this evening was supposed to be: their date night.

It turned into hell for both of them.

 

His eyes water, but before he can give in, he hears someone shouting. “Stop!” A woman. “No!”

A shot rips through the quiet of the night. Dean stands stock-still. Oh, no. No, no, no.

_No._

He takes a deep breath, so deep it hurts, the pain in his shoulder flaring as he begins to run out of the house. In just a second, he prepares himself to see Cas dead, covered in blood. Shot to death.

It feels like his heart stops when he stumbles outside, running to the gate, towards the car parked in front of it. There are two people standing to the left and the right side of the car, guns in their hands. Benny and Jo.

 

But Dean focuses on the car. On the people in the car. Cas and April.

And there _is_ blood. The windshield is red now, and Dean freezes once more as he takes in the scene. His breath stops as he looks for Cas, but he can barely see him.

Benny moves, closing in on the car. He stands on Cas’ side, slowly opening the passenger door. Nobody acknowledges Dean, but he doesn’t care. He only cares about Cas at this moment, and suddenly, he knows he can’t handle seeing Cas dead.

“Benny?” Jo’s voice shakes. It never shakes, Dean thinks absentmindedly, and he feels like he’s outside of his body, experiencing this scene as if he’s watching a movie.

Benny mumbles something, then he grabs Cas, pulling him out of the car. Dean sucks in a breath, his knees weak as his eyes zero in on Cas’.

Because they are neither closed nor lifeless. They are, in fact, very blue, and very, very much _alive_.

This is all it takes for Dean to jump into action. He doesn’t even care about April anymore. “Cas! You okay?” he shouts as he runs toward him and Benny, who lets his hands fall to his side. Castiel looks at him with his big blue eyes, then steps forward and falls into Dean’s arms.

“Yes, I… I think I’m okay…”

“She didn’t hurt you again?” He grabs Cas’ shoulders and takes a step back to take in all of Cas’ body. There’s just a bit of blood and a bruise forming on his temple where the gun hit his head earlier. “I heard someone shooting…”

“That was her,” Jo says, sounding shocked. “She shot herself when she saw us…”

Dean inhales sharply, before he wraps his arms around Cas. He ignores the pain in his shoulders _—_ as well as the questions in his head _—_ as he stares at the car and the bloody windshield. He catches a glimpse of red hair. Cas twists his head, staring at April, too. Then he opens his mouth, “It’s my fault…”

 

It’s quiet again in the neighborhood.


	7. Chapter 7

Nervously, Dean taps his fingers against the cup of coffee on the table he’s sitting at. For five minutes now, he’s been eyeing the entrance of the café, the chime of the bell that announces every new customer quickly starting to grate on his nerves. It’s his fault, though.

Today, Cas and Dean are meeting for a date. They are not doing the whole ‘pick me up, let’s go see a movie and then go have dinner at a fancy restaurant’ thing, though. It’s only been eight days since April snuck into Cas’ house.

Dean’s shoulder still has stitches, he’s still healing and therefore Cas wants to go easy on him. So they’re just meeting up for coffee today, and he’s arrived way too early. Dean’s not sure why he’s so anxious; it’s not like he hasn’t seen Cas since...well, since April.

 

Dean tears his gaze away from the entrance and instead, he looks out of the window right next to him, thinking about that night that almost cost Castiel his life.

They both ended up in the hospital, and although only Dean had to stay there overnight, Cas refused to leave his side. And Cas stayed with him all the following days then, too, in Dean’s home. They avoided Castiel’s house as much as possible, because Cas didn’t feel safe there, and because there was blood all over the floor. Dean’s blood. Cas hadn’t felt up to cleaning it yet, and Dean saw no reason to push it.

Dean’s place is big enough to accommodate both of them—and Bee, who luckily had been with Gabriel when April had attacked Cas. Some days and nights, one of Cas’ brothers will take her, though, as Dean is still trying to get accustomed to her. The first night they had spent together, Dean had been too exhausted to feel weird about having Cas with him (it had been more than eleven months since he last had someone in his bed). And by the second night, it already felt...natural. He liked having Cas over, although the man was a freakin’ slob. After just three days, there were clothes, magazines and books all over the floor of almost every room. Except for the kitchen, where a lot of dirty dishes had been left. But so far, Dean can’t find it in himself to care.

While Dean was still in the hospital, the deputies had found Meg Masters, Cas’ friend, locked in a storage room in an abandoned warehouse four miles outside of Sioux Falls. There had been no windows, no food, no water, no light. Nothing. April had left her there to die, and Meg had been _very_ close. But slowly, she’s recovering in the hospital now, with Cas visiting her every day. Sometimes, Dean goes with him, because he has the feeling that Cas needs and appreciates the support.

He’s off-duty for the next weeks, and Castiel also hasn’t returned to work yet. He’s still shaken up by what happened, and still blaming himself for April’s death. One day after the attack, he’d told Dean why he thought that. When she’d pulled him to the car, he’d tried to talk some sense into her. That she wouldn’t get away with it, whether she killed Cas in the end or not. He had talked and talked, babbled, really, since he was a bit delirious at the time. And then, suddenly, the cops had appeared. They both had been very surprised by that, and after a few seconds, April had simply taken the gun.

And that’s why he blamed her death on himself. Because he had tried to talk her out of it, had tried to save himself... He had taken her hope, or whatever you wanna call it. She had finally realized how serious her situation really was, and when the cops had showed, she’d snapped.

Dean understands where Cas is coming from, but he can’t help but feel relieved at the fact that April shot herself instead of Castiel, but herself. He’s ashamed for feeling that way, but he can’t stop it.

 

“Is this seat taken?”

Dean looks up as a familiar gravelly voice reaches his ears. The smile that spreads on his face is enormous. “Heya, Cas!” He stands and wraps an arm, the uninjured one, around the waist of the man that he’d been afraid to lose. They don’t kiss.

“You already ordered,” Cas notices as they part. “Am I late?”

“No, no. It’s fine. I was way too early. It was boring without you,” Dean replies, still smiling. “And since I didn’t know what you’d like, I thought I’d better wait for you...”

“Okay.” Cas shoots him a warm smile. “I’ll go order then. Don’t leave,” he adds and walks up to the counter.

Dean’s eyes stay trained on Castiel, observing him. He’s gorgeous, and Dean’s fingers itch to bury themselves into Castiel’s dark, thick hair. But he won’t do that just now. Ever since April, something had changed between them. Not necessarily for the worse, but they don’t have sex, they don’t kiss. Their touches are limited and careful. But then again, Dean muses, it’s only now that they’re having their first date. After all that had happened, it didn’t feel quite right to boldly approach Cas. So Dean never kissed him again. He’s waiting for some kind of permission, and so far, Cas hasn’t said anything. Dean suspects that Cas actually appreciates his patience. It’s what he needs, and Dean’s fine with it. Maybe it’ll just take some time, and some more dates, for them to get together—not just for sex.

 

When Castiel returns a little later with a hazelnut latte, Dean decides to get the unpleasant things out of the way first. “So, how’d it go?”

Cas had been to a psychologist to make sure he’s good to go, and then he’d had an appointment with Balthazar at the school today, to hash out details for his return.

Castiel gives him a soft smile. “I’m going to resume teaching next week, starting on Monday.”

“Wow, so in four days, already.” He grins. “I’ll miss chilling with you. It’ll be boring…”

The smile on Cas’ face falters. “Oh, right. What did your doctor say?”

Sighing, Dean leans back. “In two weeks I might get back behind the desk, but that’s all. This stupid shoulder takes its sweet time to heal, unfortunately.”

Castiel nods and casts his eyes down, indicating that he still feels guilty about what happened to Dean. “I see. So Donna is doing the sheriff’s duties until then?”

“Yeah. She’ll manage.” Dean leans forward again and puts a hand on Cas’. “Hey, come on. It’s okay, I swear. I’m just happy we’re still alive. That’s all that matters. And our date.”

He smiles and Cas reluctantly lifts his gaze, returning his smile. “I guess you’re right.”

“So…” Dean nervously licks his lips, and then grabs his coffee to take a sip. “I wanted to give you something.” His heart flutters in his chest when he sees the excited look in Cas’ eyes.

“Oh? And what would that be?” He straightens up, regaining some confidence.

“It’s nothing big. It’s not like it’s a gift or something, but I thought you might need it,” he says, eyes on his mug as he fishes for the object in his jeans pocket. Carefully, he lays the key to his house onto the table, right in the center. “I figured it’d be more convenient for you if you had a key to the house. Unless you’ve decided that you want to stay with one of your brothers for a bit…?”

Self-consciously, he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, thinking about how to explain this in order to soothe any possible disappointment, but when he chances a glance towards Cas, the man looks…stunned.

“A key?” Cas repeats, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual. “Dean…” In an instant, his eyes soften as he looks at Dean with an unbelievable warmth. He reaches a hand across the table, covering Dean’s. Not only is his palm warm and solid, but comforting and reassuring, as well. “I would love to stay with you. If that is what you want…”

Dean nods, a fond smile stretching his lips. “Stay as long as you’d like, Cas. I like having you in my house.” He tilts his head to the side. “In my bed.”

At that, Cas grins lazily, before he takes the key and stuffs it into the pocket of his black leather jacket. “Thank you, Dean.” He stands and takes a step towards Dean’s side, taking his chin between his thumb and index finger. “Thank you,” he repeats, his voice low and sincere, and Dean’s eyes zero in on Cas’ blue ones, which are swirling with emotion. “It truly _is_ a gift.” Then his mouth lowers on Dean’s, and this soft and intimate press of lips makes Dean’s heart flutter in his chest. It’s a good feeling, he thinks, as he feels his stomach swooping.

Far too soon, they part, and Dean looks at Castiel in awe. There’s so much more that he wants from this man. “Cas, I…”

But Castiel reaches out to cradle Dean’s face with both of his hands. “Dean,” he says with a pleased expression on his face. “Let’s have our date. Let me get to know you better. And then, let’s have more dates.” Dean feels his own lips twitch in slight amusement. He can only nod at Cas’ proposal. He wants to get to know Cas, really know him, too, although he still feels like he’s screwed up since he hadn’t been able to protect Cas from harm. Cas, though, isn’t tired yet of reassuring him that thanks to Dean’s presence, he hadn’t completely lost his mind. It’s something they have to work through. Together.

“Yeah, Cas. Let’s.” Dean smiles as Castiel nods.

“May I sit next to you?”

Dean’s smile widens. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He slides over until Cas can take a seat right next to him, their thighs pressed together. It’s a nice feeling.

“Cas?”

“Mh-hmm?”

“I have another present for you. But we’ll have to wait two more hours for that.”

Dean chuckles when he sees Cas’ big eyes. He’s fucking curious, Dean can tell.

“Come on, Dean. Give me a hint at least,” Castiel begs, but Dean has to shake his head.

“I’m sorry. Any hint would give me away.”

Now, Cas looks a bit grumpy, but Dean knows he’ll be happy later. There’s a cat waiting for them, healing a bit every day and probably good with a dog. They’ll find out soon, but both Dean and the vet are confident that it’ll work out.

“Well, well. Then let’s put these two hours to good use. Time will fly by, this way.” Cas takes his hazelnut latte and wraps his sinful lips around the rim, taking a long sip. He licks his lips and looks at Dean, only mere inches away from him. “Tell me, do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Dean grins. “Oh, there are a lot of stories to tell.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride! If you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading this story! It was fun to write, especially since I've never written anything concerning a sheriff before. If you liked this story, then we might see each other again as I have lots of ideas that wait to get posted :)  
> Come scream at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Phoenix_Michie)


End file.
